


Ouroboros

by larissalee



Series: The Naga Potion [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Creature Fic, F/M, Potions Accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:11:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 38,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larissalee/pseuds/larissalee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hunt for horcruxes stalls after the destruction of Slytherin's locket. Returning to Grimmauld for rest and research seemed like a good idea, but a potion to help Hermione decipher Harry's parseltongue visions goes wrong. When she finds herself captured, the error turns out to be a boon. After all, why would Voldemort kill someone so uniquely intriguing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story will NOT include any rape. Period. 
> 
> Mature rating is for later in the story. I imagine the Dark Lord might get violent enough to warrant the rating, or sex may be graphic enough. We'll see...

Hermione tugged her jumper tight against her skin, eyes skimming the pale tinge of light gracing the horizon. Her wand hung loosely in her grip as she nodded to herself. It was time. They didn't have any other options, really. 

The crunch of her boots in the leaves and snow made both boys bolt awake. Nerves were strung too tight for proper sleep these days, even with that horrid locket out of the way. Harry ran a hand through his nest of hair, grimacing as his fingers snagged in the tangled mess. Ron scrubbed at his face, as if his fingers could coax the exhaustion from his face. 

"We can't keep doing this."

Hermione's quiet words paused their movements. They shared a look, confusion blatant in their expressions. After weeks of fighting and yelling and tension, it was hard to remember how to talk to each other. Harry broke the silence. "Doing what?"

"This," she gestured around them. "We can't keep running like this, trying to find the other horcruxes with next to no information. We have no supplies, no more potions. At this rate, we'll pass out from exhaustion or malnutrition long before You-Know-Who finds us."

"But we can't go back! There's nowhere safe to go anymore, 'Mione! I mean, look, if the Ministry could fall..." Ron left his words hanging, the meaning clear. 

The witch bristled, tired from her overnight shift keeping watch. "The Ministry had moles on the insides for years, Ron! You and I both know that. What we need is somewhere less public, a non-target, maybe an unplottable place?"

Ron scoffed rudely. "Oi, because those are a dime a bushel?"

"Grimmauld still hides the Order."

The bickering accompanied a pounding ache between Hermione's temples. She rubbed at them roughly, willing the headache to go the hell away. As it was, Harry's words took a moment to sink in. 

Her mind raced. Harry was right! The old house had lost its Secret Keeper with Dumbledore's death, but the Order had been quick to establish a new one. Harry had volunteered; after all, if he were captured, the location of Grimmauld would be the last thing to worry about. If they could get there unnoticed... "That... that's brilliant, Harry!" 

Ron's face lit up as he too realized what Harry had said. He clapped his friend on the back, accidentally knocking Harry's glasses askew in his excitement. "Er, sorry."

"S'alright." Harry gave a small smile. His nightmares had sucked the joy from him for months, but something like hope blossomed in their chests. "So... are we going home, then?"

Hermione nodded, a plan forming quickly in the glow of sunrise. "Yes... let's go home."

* * *

Night fell. 

The house sat encased in shadows and silence. Three figures crept over the dilapidated fence lining the backyard. Their forms rippled slightly in the night, their disillusionment spells barely holding as they crossed the wards of the ancient building. 

One of the creeping visitors slid up to the back door, peeking into the kitchen. Someone sat at the table in the near darkness, sipping at a cup of tea. Nodding, they flicked a whispered _alohomora_ at the doorknob and quietly gained entrance. 

Muffled footsteps snuck behind the kitchen table, approaching the slumped guardian who seemed completely lost in thought. A gentle hand to the shoulder led to a yelp and tea all across the table. 

Harry's quick _expelliarmus_ prevented an instinctive hex. "Tonks! It's okay!"

"Harry?" The woman's hair, bright orange with alarm, shimmered back to her normal pink. "Oh, Harry!" She threw her arms around the younger man, her relief and excitement washing over him. As she glanced over his shoulder, she squeaked in surprise to see Ron and Hermione ripple into sight. "You're okay? You're all okay!"

She flew into their arms, a forced group hug they did nothing to avoid. Feet pounded down the stairs and the kitchen lights blared on. Remus slammed to a stop at the doorway, eyes wide and jaw hanging open in shock. Behind him, the Weasley twins crashed into one another before skidding into Remus. They stumbled and fell to the floor in a dazed heap. 

Hermione rolled her eyes at their antics, smiling as Tonks dragged Remus to his feet. Before he could ask, she quickly piped in with the answers he'd need. "We're okay, but we ran out of, well, everything. We need some time to regroup, so we snuck home."

"Bloody hell, we thought-"

"-we'd never see you again!" 

Two pairs of arms tackled Hermione, releasing her before she could protest being smothered. Ron and Harry suffered the same treatment, the relief at being alive and united with family again something palpable in the air. 

The night lightened to day before anyone considered sleep.

* * *

Days later, the Order had met and discussed the situation. With Dumbledore gone, no one truly knew where the trio should turn for their quest. The vague hints at what they were seeking didn't help, but Hermione decided it was more important to contain the knowledge of horcruxes than it was to seek outside help.

That said, she rubbed her eyes and carelessly tossed the book she'd been reading onto her growing reject pile. The Black library, extensive as it was, just didn't contain the information they needed. Then again, she wasn't quite sure what that entailed; her hunt had become more of a search for divine inspiration of where to look next, rather than an attempt to locate any new information on horcruxes themselves. 

With a heavy sigh, she grabbed one more book to peruse before calling it a night. The leather cover flaked, even under extensive preservation charms; normally, she'd be in awe of holding such an ancient text. As tired as she was, the older books had lost their allure a shelf or two ago. 

Her fingers slid down the faded text, eyes skimming over the words automatically as she sped-read her way through the first few pages. It seemed to cover the classical details of magical creature mythology and their historical roots in... something. Yawning, she continued browsing mindlessly through the pages. 

_Nāga is the Sanskrit and Pali word for a deity or class of entity or being, taking the form of a very great snake—specifically the king cobra, found in Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism and Sikhism. A female nāga is a nāgī or nāgiṇī._

Her heart skipped a beat as she reread the passage. Nagini. Maybe that snake...? But why would anyone make a horcrux out of a mortal thing? It made no sense, but Hermione's mind locked onto the idea and refused to let it go. 

Energized, her quill scratched quickly across parchment. Her notes were coded, of course, but she knew what she meant. That's all that really mattered.

* * *

A scream of terror tore Hermione out of sleep. Her wand was in hand and she'd flown across the hall to the boys' room before it'd ended. As the door flung open, she could see Ron frantically trying to shake Harry awake as the other wizard drew in another breath to scream. 

" _Rennervate!_ " Her spell pulled Harry out of whatever nightmare gripped his mind, and he gasped for air as his eyes flew open. She rushed to his side, collapsing on the side of his bed and clasping his shaking hand. 

The trio sat in quiet familiarity as Harry struggled to calm his breathing. The nightmares had grown steadily worse during their hunt, almost as if Voldemort were bragging about his deeds in a twisted mental torture. He probably enjoyed forcing Harry to experience torturing and killing others; he'd been aware of their connection long enough to think of using it as a weapon, surely. 

Once she felt Harry's pulse calm in the wrist she held, Hermione gave him a soft squeeze. "What happened this time?"

"He was furious," Harry answered with a shudder. "He was having another one of those gatherings, where they drag in muggles and..." He swallowed hard, skin paling as he spoke. "Anyway, the usual happened, but then someone got carried away. A marble pillar got blasted loose, and it fell on one of the victims. I think that was the idea, but then everything hurt! I felt like I was the muggle, smashed under that bloody thing, but that never happens. Vol... You-Know-Who shrieked and flung the thing at his own people! The pain doubled as he approached a writhing mass on the ground, and I hissed at him for help. Then I was looking down at Nagini's broken body, and I was so angry it burned. It was like my magic was on fire! Well, okay, it was his magic, but still... it was... intense."

Hermione cringed, but she stuck to the plan they'd agreed upon weeks ago. "So... are you going to go back in and see if he's left himself open?"

"Blimey! Can't you see he's exhausted?" Ron glared at her, clearly furious at her suggestion. 

"Ron, this has got to be the best chance for Harry to get in. Think about it! His pet just got injured, so he's probably focused on her, and..." Her eyes widened. She'd set aside the idea of Nagini being a horcrux, letting her focus drift to other potential targets. Now, she wasn't so sure. 

Harry seemed to track her thought process. He sighed. "You're right. I need to go back in." 

"But that's mad!" Ron jerked to his feet, angrily tugging at his hair. "Mate, you can't seriously think it's worth-"

"-getting a leg up on what he's doing? Yes, I think it is." Harry laid back down on his bed and huffed. "Hermione? Send me back."

She whispered a gently sleeping spell and watched as his body relaxed into unconsciousness once again.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry's expression when he woke up the next morning told Hermione that her suspicions couldn't be far off. He sat with his hands curled around a mug of cocoa, eyes staring unfocused at the tabletop. Still, his silence didn't speak of trauma so much as confusion.

Ron scarfed down his scrambled eggs and bacon, the noise of his eating a normal and familiar thing in the morning stillness. Hermione cringed at the crumbs that flew from his toast, but his enthusiasm in the face of food was comforting.

Harry cleared his throat. "He talked to Nagini most of the night. While he healed her, I mean."

"Did he say anything helpful?" She edged a plate of food toward her tired friend, hoping he'd start eating out of habit. 

Recognizing her mothering for what it was, he gave Hermione a small smile before taking a bite. Swallowing slowly, he shrugged. "Well, he talked about a bit of everything really. It was like in the infirmary, when you just babble on and on... because you need to talk to the injured person, to remind yourself that they're still breathing and they'll wake up soon." 

"What the hell would the Dark Lord babble at a bloody snake?" Ron scowled, as if the very idea of You-Know-Who caring about anyone or anything other than himself were laughable. 

"Nagini's special, Ron. You know that," Harry frowned at his plate as he concentrated. "It was hard to catch everything, though. He hisses faster than I can follow, and he's so quiet about it."

Hermione's mind drifted to the books she'd been reviewing the past few days. "Was it all in parseltongue?"

"Yeah, of course. I mean, how else would he talk to Nagini?"

She sighed. "So even if we had a way to listen to your dream with you, it'd be useless?"

"Couldn't Harry just translate?" Ron glanced between the two as he chewed on another strip of bacon. At Harry's head shake, he grimaced at his own mistake. "Oh, right. Parseltongue."

Ignoring their mumbled discussion, Hermione tapped at the table as her mind flicked through the information she could recall from the Black library. Didn't Moneceros Black write something about sharing parseltongue talent in his journal? Or was that spell by Antlia Black-Goolrick the thing, the one with the mind melding bit like Star Trek? 

"Hermione?"

She leapt up and ran to her room, scooping up her coded notes and the small stack of books she'd taken for a closer look. Hermione darted back to the kitchen and plunked herself down haphazardly as she flipped through her scribbled pages. Her eyes skimmed quickly, familiar with her own method of notetaking madness. 

"Seriously, 'Mione, what's going on?" 

Moneceros was the one! He had that potion, the dark one he warned against using unless you were a potion master. Then again, he'd used it. He hadn't been a master in the slightest, just an overly curious Ravenclaw with the need to Know Everything. His journal had that weird hex, too, the one to turn alcohol into water. He wrote about messing with other purebloods at social events, especially drunks like Delilah Parkinson and that man she remembered was supposedly related to the McNair's... 

"HERMIONE!"

The conjoined shout of her name from both the boys made her almost fall out of her chair. Her hand pressed over her heart, willing it to steady itself. 

"Bloody hell! What's this all about, then?" Ron gestured to the pile of parchments strewn across the table. 

Harry picked one up and wrinkled his nose. "Writing in code again?"

Hermione blushed. "Well, I can't very well let anyone read about... the things we're seeking, can I?" She shuffled the pages back into some semblance of order, embarrassed. "I just remembered something, that's all."

Rummaging through the small stack of books from her room, she pulled out Moneceros's journal. Dust flew from its cover as she opened it and flipped through the pages. Harry frowned over her shoulder. "What's that?"

"It's a journal from a Black ancestor. He was a researcher of sorts, collected all sorts of interesting tidbits..." She trailed off as she sought out the entry on the parseltongue potion.

"Okay, but what language is that?"

Glancing up to ask what he meant, Hermione realized what she'd missed and laughed. "Oh, Harry! It's in Classical West Saxon, or a mixture of Alfredian and Mercian dialectal forms." At his raised brow, she huffed a breath. "Old English. It's in Old English."

Grinning at her, Harry stopped trying to read over her shoulder. "So... what are you looking for, then?"

"There's this potion he used... right here!" She started to push the book to Harry, then shook her head and explained. "Monceros Black was a bit of a knowledge hound, so he studied almost anything he could get his hands on. He even learned domestic spells, just to say he knew them! Anyway, he found a potion that allowed him to speak and understand parseltongue for a time. If we could get a hold of a pensieve and then make this potion, one of us could view your visions from You-Know-Who and see if we can glean a bit more."

Harry nodded along with her rambling explanation, then glanced up over her shoulder. "What do you think, Kingsley?"

Jolting with surprise, Hermione twisted to see the older man standing at the kitchen door. She'd been so caught up that she'd missed his arrival. Kingsley shrugged. "It couldn't hurt. What do you need, Hermione?"

* * *

Tonks tripped over something and came stumbling into the kitchen with a bag in hand. Her pink hair seemed dimmed as she set it next to Hermione's workspace at the table. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Hermione knew why she was worried. Half of the ingredients were restricted, the other half banned. They'd agreed, though, that none of them were damaging enough to change the plan. The chaya naga ichor had to be taken from a still-living host, after all. She shuddered to think what this potion would taste like!

The base potion simmered quietly on the tabletop. She rubbed her neck, which ached from stooping over her notes and meticulously following the directions she'd translated. "This will work, Tonks. Harry needs the help. He can't keep doing this alone."

The bright-haired witch shrugged and leaned against the counter. "I know, I just feel like this is a bad idea."

Pulling out the last few ingredients, Hermione couldn't help but agree. "You're right, but it's our only option right now." Tonks nodded and left, her hair shifting to a sad grey.

Left alone in the kitchen, Hermione made quick work of the last few steps to the potion. Six counterclockwise stirs, and the last drop of ichor turned the potion a deep turquoise. She sniffed hesitantly, and it smelled just as the journal had suggested: burnt ozone and rotten seaweed. Oh, joy.

* * *

Gathered around the dinner table, conversation was muted. They'd decided not to call an Order meeting, in case the potion didn't work or went horribly wrong. A comforting thought. 

Remus and Tonks sat together, his larger hand curling around hers in comfort. The sight made Hermione smile. Remus had been avoiding his attraction to Tonks for ages, so it was nice to see him finally give in a little. 

Kingsley had joined them, unofficially taking charge in place of Dumbledore's missing presence. He'd cast a few charms around her potion and deemed it non-poisonous. It was a small comfort, but at least she knew she probably wasn't going to die. 

Hermione hadn't told anyone, but Moneceros described the potion as painful. Apparently, it used the snake-like aspects of the naga to trigger parseltongue; some portion of that process involved minor physical changes, but he wasn't specific. 

Still, this was it. The only useful thing they'd found in ages.

A vial of the potion sat in front of her as everyone got settled. Harry sat across from her, ready to test its success. She took a deep breath, opened the vial, and lifted it in a mock toast to the table. "Here goes!"

The taste reminded Hermione of ocean air after a storm. Surprisingly pleasant. She swallowed the entire thing and clinked the vial back onto the table, sliding the cork back into place. Eyes meeting Harry's, she frowned at the indecipherable hissing of his words. 

A sharp pain flared in her mind, and she could feel herself slipping from her chair to the floor. Hands steadied her on the way down, but her skin itched and burned with violent sensitivity. She cried out, alarmed. The room shimmered out of focus, excruciating light blocking everyone out as consciousness left her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **::parseltongue::** will be bolded (usually) and in a set of double colons.

Everything hurt. 

The first thing Hermione noticed when she came to was the strange buzzing in her ears. She felt more than heard people talking around her, their voices loud and incessant. Her fingers dug into someone's knee, drawing attention to her squinted eyes. 

She could make out Harry's messy hair and glasses as he hovered, a frown on his face. His lips moved, but nothing made sense. The lights dimmed, and she moaned in gratitude. One of the Weasley twins helped her sit up slowly, while the other offered her a glass of water. They asked her something, but they mumbled too much. She couldn't catch the words.

 **::Hermione, do you understand me?::**

Her eyes snapped to Harry, widening as she put two and two together. Licking her lips, she spoke softly. **::I do. I assume we're speaking in parseltongue?::** The words vibrated oddly as they escaped her mouth and throat. 

Harry nodded, turning to speak to their gathered friends. Her body felt off, unfamiliar as she shifted to stand with Fred's help. At least she thought it was Fred. She slid back into her chair as a lively discussion rushed on around her. Kingsley seemed particularly upset, waving a sheaf of parchment under Harry's nose. Tonks shifted uncomfortably, her hair fading from pink to a sickly green. Ron's face turned an awe-inspiring shade of red as he spat angrily at something Kingsley must've said. 

The volume started to irritate her. Tugging on George's sleeve to gain his attention, she waited until both twins looked at her before pointing to the stairs, then pressing a finger to her lips. Sharing a look, they both gave her an exaggerated bow and motioned for her to head up to her room. She loved them for it, especially as they moved to hide her escape from view. 

Hermione rushed upstairs, careful to hold the banister with her shoddy equilibrium. Ducking into the bathroom, she sighed and turned on the shower. Maybe a quick wash would settle her nerves while everyone else settled theirs. 

She tossed her clothes on the floor, gently tugging her hair free of its hair tie. A strange image out of the corner of her eye made her turn to the bathroom mirror. She gasped, a hand flying up to cover her mouth in surprise. 

Where those scales?

Her fingertips gingerly brushed the opalescent markings along her temples. A shimmer in the light showed her that the scales continued on many parts of her skin. They felt soft and silky, not at all like she'd expected. The marks ran down her neck and back, from what she could see in the mirror, as well as her shoulders and hips. They faded from scale to skin almost naturally. Her shy touches told her that the new skin's sensitivity ran ridiculously high. 

Leaning forward, she bared her teeth at the mirror and almost jumped to see them pointed and vicious looking. Her tongue flicked across them, only to shock her further. No wonder it felt so weird to speak! The potion had changed her, alright! The tip of her tongue forked ever so slightly, making even her resulting groan of frustration come out with a bit of a hiss. 

**::What have I gotten myself into?::** She rasped to herself, both amused and concerned by the sensation of speaking parseltongue. 

Checking the temperature of the water against a scaly bit, she climbed into the shower and gave herself a quick wash. Her mind catalogued the various changes from Moneceros's potion, and she couldn't help but feel annoyed that he'd left so much out. Stingy bastard! 

Wrapping herself in a towel, she darted to her room for fresh clothes. It sounded like maybe they'd gotten all of the yelling out of their systems. Thank Merlin! She found a jumper and leggings to wear, tugging on a pair of thick fluffy socks when she realized how cold she felt. Fun. Was she cold-blooded now? 

Harry waited just outside of her room, his arms crossed and a frustrated look on his face. He straightened and opened his arms, offering her a hug. He knew her well. As they embraced, he sighed into her hair. **::Are you okay? Really?::**

**::I'm fine, Harry. A bit overwhelmed, I'll admit, but that's to be expected.::**

He moved toward the stairs, motioning for her to follow. **::I convinced Kingsley to head out, stick to his schedule and all that. He gave us a list of things to test, before we use the pensieve he smuggled out from the Unspeakables office.::**

They trailed into the library. Ron sat with Remus next to the fire, a chessboard between them. Tonks leapt to her feet, babbling immediately as they entered the room. Harry shook his head and responded, probably reminding her that Hermione didn't understand her questions. She gave Hermione an apologetic little smile before slinking back to the couch. 

Harry took a seat, picking up a list of some sort from the mess of parchments littering the coffee table. He handed it to Hermione. **::These were Kingsley's suggestions, as far as where to start. Do we have any idea of how long the potion lasts?::**

She gazed at the list and sneered. **::Well, that's just lovely... if this list includes "see if Hermione can't read anymore", you can mark me down as "currently illiterate".::**

 **::Oh... I'm sorry?::** He looked for uncomfortable as he accepted the list back from her shaking hand. Eyeing it, he tried for humor. **::You'd be lucky to read Kingsley's chicken scratch as it is, potion or no.::**

With a heavy sigh, she motioned to the list in question. **::Well?::**

He read it over, then dug through the papers on the table before holding one out to Hermione. **::This one's yours. Can you read your own writing?::**

She could tell the answer before he'd even let go of the ink-covered sheet. **::Nope, it's a bunch of squiggles and lines to me.::**

He diligently added a note to Kingsley's list. They continued in the same manner for an hour, having Hermione try to read older and newer books, trying to command her to understand English once again, letting an irritated painting call her names. Nothing worked, aside from Harry's own parseltongue commentary on each test. 

In the early morning hours, Hermione laid in her bed staring at the ceiling. Her mind circled 'round the same realization she'd had since returning to her room. With her notes in code, her source in an ancient tongue, and her skill at translation locked away... who was going to fix this?

Sleep eluded her, quite rudely to be honest. She watched the sun creep over the horizon before she, too, crept out of her room to make a cup of tea.

* * *

A silver stream of memory slipped out of Harry's temple as he guided his vision into the borrowed pensieve. Kingsley had checked in after his shift that morning, telling them to get a move on until they could figure something out to fix Hermione's problem. After all, they might as well get some use out of her mistake. 

It rubbed her the wrong way to be treated like a child who'd messed up. She was eighteen, not eight! She bit her tongue, especially since Harry would be the only one to hear her complaints. 

The rippling surface of the pensieve brought her attention to the situation at hand. **::Ready?::**

 **::As ready as I can be. You?::** His hand clasped hers in support. Harry really was the little brother she'd never had. 

At her nod, they both dipped down to enter the memory.

* * *

_The room held very little light, outside of the fireplace and its glow. Voldemort crouched by the rug nearest the warmth, a quivering mass that could only be Nagini laying across the floor._

_**::Little One, let me help you.::**_

_**::No, Master. You need your strength to punish the bad ones.::** The snake's reply was barely audible, even as Hermione crept closer. She realized that Harry was nowhere to be seen, then remembered how he'd described seeing through their eyes. Her attention returned to Voldemort as he collapsed onto his knees. _

_**::They will pay, but I can't make them pay without you. I'm nothing without you by my side, pet. Please?::** His voice cracked, surprising Hermione._

_Nagini slithered across his legs, her head edged up to look at him. **::You would not survive in the wild, Master. Weak creatures must die, and Nagini is weak. Mortally wounded, you called it?::** Her dark humor came in a strange cough of laughter, as if human phrases were silly._

_**::Not if I have any say in it, Nagini.::** His wand traced over her form, a soft glow sinking into her muscles. She hissed in appreciation as he healed her injuries. _

_Hermione watched, noticing a tremor in Voldemort's hand. He grew paler if possible, as if healing the snake exhausted his strength. Something about him seemed different, now that she looked at him directly. His eyes glowed red in the darkness, as they had since he'd returned to his body. And yet..._

_As he rubbed a hand over his face, she figured out the glaringly obvious change to his appearance. He had a nose! When the hell did that happen?_

_Nagini's quiet interruption drew her back to the vision. **::Master needs to nest now.::**_

_**::Yes, dear.::** The Dark Lord's soft chuckle and endearment bewildered Hermione. She watched as he scooped up the still weak serpent and turned toward the door. The memory took on a fuzzy quality as it started to fade at its end. His last words, however, echoed loudly in her mind. _

_**::Hogsmeade can wait until tomorrow, I suppose.::**_

* * *

Pulled from the memory and returning to her body, Hermione stifled a cry of alarm. Her eyes flew to the clock. It was lunchtime, and a Hogsmeade weekend to boot! Apparently, Harry made the same connection from reviewing the vision. He barked something to Ron, who flew to the fireplace and tossed in floo powder. Kingsley's face appeared, words were quickly exchanged, and the flames returned to normal. 

Noticing Hermione's frustrated look, Harry quickly explained. **::Kingsley's calling in the Order, and then we're heading to Hogsmeade. Snape's a bastard, so I bet he's warned his Slytherins and left the rest to fate.::**

She wanted to argue, but Dumbledore's death hung over them all even now. With a stern nod, she gripped her wand and planted her feet. **::I'm going with you.::**

 **::No, Hermione. You can't even cast a spell right now. You'd be defenseless!::**

Hermione hated Harry for being right. The green glow of the fireplace prevented any argument she might've considered. People flooded into the room, a rush of robes, wands, and voices. She let herself be ushered out of the room and down the hall, making room for the Order in full swing. 

They ran out through the front door, apparating in pairs the minute they hit the edge of the wards. All too soon, Hermione found herself back in the library with Ron, Harry, and a heavy silence.


	4. Chapter 4

Waiting for news had to be the worst kind of madness. Hermione paced the library, checking the time every few minutes. She couldn't read to distract herself like she normally would, and watching Harry get trounced by Ron in chess held little appeal. Their murmured conversation only worked to frustrate her further, as she was left out by sheer bad luck. If she ever learned to write in English again, she was going to write a very detailed explanation of the parseltongue potion. Or maybe she'd just destroy the damned journal and be done with it. 

Hours passed with quiet tension. 

The crack of apparition sent them all flying toward the front door, opening it just in time to see Remus dragging a semi-conscious and bleeding Tonks down the front walk. Ron dipped under her other arm, taking some of her weight to ease their conjoined burden. 

Another group popped into view just outside of the wards. The Weasley twins quickly dragged an unconscious Aberforth Dumbledore into safety, Harry swooping in to assist as the old wizard started to flail in their grasp. 

A growing sense of foreboding warned Hermione that something terrible was going to happen, and soon. She rushed out to steady Profession Flitwick as he limped into the house's protective field. Guiding him into the house, she simply shook her head and motioned to Ron when questions appeared to be directed her way. 

Grimmauld bustled with life as the number of wounded grew. Many faces were unfamiliar, but they were clearly Order members recognized by those like Remus and Moody. The older adults directed the growing crowd to various transfigured cots and chairs. Hermione started to feel closed in, especially as people sought her out for answers. Of course, they expected know-it-all Granger, not English-challenged Hermione. She escaped to the kitchen for a glass of water and a moment's peace. 

A bang at the back fence ended that moment only seconds later. 

She rushed out the back door, struggling with the latch of the fence in her hurry. No one used the back, and the overgrown shrubs tripped her as if they were devil's snares and she a tasty snack. She squinted into the growing darkness; somehow sunset had come and gone without notice. The light from the kitchen spilled out into the yard, barely reaching the fence posts. 

A body laid face down in the grass just outside of the wards. With a quick glance around, Hermione darted out of the wards to check on the person. Were they even breathing? She kneeled and slid her fingers over a pulsepoint. A steady heartbeat thudded against them. Good. 

As she pushed the person onto their side, she realized Mundungus Fletcher was really too big for her to move alone, especially without magic. She turned to yell for help, but a snapping twig had her spinning on the spot. A hand grabbed her wrist, and she jerked to free herself. Instinct drove her to bite the arm restraining her, sinking her fangs deep into flesh. 

An infuriated shriek rang through the air, and then a red flash of magic sent Hermione into nothingness.

* * *

The floor was cold and unyielding. Based on the way it felt smooth and polished to her touch, Hermione imagined she must be laid out on marble. Maybe granite, if anyone were into that sort of thing. Considering You-Know-Who's crowd, she assumed marble based on price alone. Purebloods were predictable.

A familiar smell, one of herbs and mildew, made her open her eyes slowly. Snape leaned over her form, a resigned look quickly shifting to a sneer as people in masks stirred around them. He said something to her, clearly meant to be as caustic as usual. She blinked at him, not bothering to pretend she understood whatever insult he'd given. 

Arms hauled her to her feet, releasing her so quickly that she almost didn't find her footing in time to stay vertical. A quick glance around the room made her stomach sink. People in black robes and white masks took up much of the ballroom-sized space. Death Eaters. Lovely. 

Some seemed to be injured, draped into chairs and cots along the back wall. Her gaze found Bellatrix and held as she noticed how pale and clammy the crazed witch appeared. A bandage wrapped her forearm, making Hermione grin maliciously. At least she'd done something, right? 

She felt more alone as she noticed Mundungus lying on the floor next to her feet. Another handful of apparent prisoners stood against the far wall, wands trained on them and ready to strike as needed. Their faces weren't familiar, but she imagined their looks of terror marked them as non-Death Eaters. 

Everyone's eyes studiously avoided the raised dais and throne at the front of the room. 

Someone shoved her forward, and a heavy hand on her shoulder forced her to kneel. She sank down quickly, mind racing for anything resembling a survival plan. Nothing. Hermione knelt before the Dark Lord, wandless, surrounded by an army of Death Eaters. In short, she was royally screwed. 

The room grew ominously quiet as she realized that Voldemort had spoken. She didn't want to make eye contact, but she knew what would happen if she didn't respond. Torn, she hesitated too long. A curse sent her sprawling to the floor once again, cheers and whoops ringing out as she convulsed with pain. It stopped before she could scream, the sudden absence leaving her to pant for air as she struggled to her knees. He'd probably kill her, but she'd be damned if she died lying down!

Voldemort spoke again, and she dared to ignore him. Her eyes drifted to the other captives. Would anyone live long enough to tell Harry goodbye for her? Probably not. Hermione tensed and fell to the floor again as another curse wracked her body. In some small, distant portion of her mind she compared the pain of the curse to a full-body Charlie horse and groaned as her muscles strained against tendons and ligaments without mercy. 

A sob escaped her as the curse was lifted. Ignoring the agony in her very bones, she pushed up from the marble once more. She swayed before steadying herself and gritting her teeth to remain vertical. Voldemort's angry buzz told her to keep it up. Anything that pissed off that insane man was worth doing!

Suddenly, a bright green flash of magic zoomed across the room and struck down one of the prisoners, his body immediately keeling over. Cheers rang out through the crowd in the face of their Lord's wrath in action. When one of the other captives reached for the dead man, he threw a hex at them; seen from the outside, it had to be the _Cruciatus_ based on the way the witch writhed in pain. Voldemort lifted the spell, then sent it again into the small group. A malicious smirk graced his face at the chaos of excitement in the room. The Death Eaters loved a good show, it seemed. His wand glowed green as he took aim once more.

**::No!::**

A hush rippled through the room. Voldemort's red eyes took on a hard edge as they met Hermione's. She felt him shift across the surface of her thoughts, and he jerked away the moment her mind truly touched his; a perplexed expression covered his usually bland face, an odd sight on such a self-assured wizard. His quiet words whirred between them, clear as a bell. **::What did you say?::**

Taking a deep breath, she bowed her head. **::Please... just stop.::**


	5. Chapter 5

**::Please... just stop.::**

Voldemort raised a brow, the only hint of his true thoughts. His curiosity was peaked, though; no one outside of the Potter boy had shown any talent for parseltongue, and that had only been a fluke. How did a mudblood learn it?

His eyes traveled over her form. An opalescent sheen covered parts of her face and neck, and her teeth had seemed rather sharp. Had the intel been wrong? Perhaps Potter's mudblood was actually a half-breed? It made her no more desirable than before, but her very existence intrigued him. 

He caught Snape's eye. "Severus, take her to the green parlor. I will join you shortly." He watched the girl, but she truly seemed unsure of what was going on. Snape gripped her arm and directed her out of the room immediately. Such a good man, to follow orders to readily when his heart wasn't in it. Voldemort ignored the man's indiscretions as a spy, as long as he cooperated when directed to action. 

Returning his attention to the gathered crowd, he rose elegantly from his throne. "Our attack today has been an enthusiastic success! The Order has been struck, our blow to their forces much larger than they may have expected. The lack of extemporaneous damage to Hogsmeade pleases me. You followed my orders far better than I dared expect of you, and so you shall be rewarded!" 

With a wave of his wand, drinks and tables laden with food appeared for the celebration. The Dark Lord directed a few men to take their prisoners to the manor's dungeon, others instructed to remove their own casualties to one of the infirmaries set up further down the west wing. Satisfied that everything had been taken care of for the evening, he swooped out of the ballroom and across the manor to his personal parlor.

It amused him to find his servant offering an uncooperative captive a glass of water. She snubbed him, hissing her anger without words (not that Snape would know that). Making his presence known, he accepted Snape's bow with little thought before questioning him. "This is Hermione Granger, mudblood companion to Harry Potter?" 

"Yes, my lord." Snape frowned at the girl for a moment. "I'm not sure what she's done, other than possibly play with magic she had no business meddling with. She's always been a know-it-all, quick to pretend herself a magical prodigy."

The bitterness in the potion master's tone spoke more of jealousy than truth. Voldemort let it slide; Snape's attitude mattered far less than the information he could provide. "Have you heard of a spell or potion to teach parseltongue without an innate gift?"

"No, my lord." 

He dismissed Snape with a wave of his hand. "Well, go look. Clearly there is one." 

The door clicked shut, leaving the Dark Lord alone with his puzzle. The girl sat quiet and still on the edge of her chair, gazed strictly fixed on some portion of the antique carpet beneath her feet. She almost seemed calm, if he hadn't already noticed the way she clutched her hands together in her lap. 

A soft ripple in his personal wards signaled Nagini's entrance. She'd spent the entire day in recovery, per his request, but it seemed the chiming of a distance clock told her midnight ended her promise to rest all day. She slithered into the room via one of the vent, her nose nudging his toe in greeting. **::Good evening, Master. How was the hunt? Did you catch prey?::**

He watched her tongue dart out, tasting the air. **::Yes, Little One. The hunt went well, though I missed your presence.::**

**::You brought a snack?::**

He chuckled as Hermione tensed, still not looking his way. **::I'm afraid not, Nagini. This one is special. She speaks our tongue.::**

Nagini surveyed the frightened witch and dipped her head. **::Are you sure? She smells like fear and makes no sound. That means prey.::**

Voldemort glided to the settee directly across from his guest and lounged comfortably. Nagini followed, inspecting the girl before climbing her way to the back of his chair. He waited, rolling his eyes as the girl stayed mute. **::Perhaps you are correct, my dear. I had thought her worth keeping, but now...::**

Hermione took the bait, glaring at him defiantly. **::Of course I'm scared! I'm a _mudblood_ sitting in the Dark Lord's drawing room, alone and unarmed. I'd have to be stupid to not be afraid!::**

**::Wriggling your way into a predator's nest is stupid,::** Nagini reasoned. 

The witch surged to her feet, her earlier fear apparently forgotten. **::I'll have you know that I did NOT wriggle into anything! I was kidnapped from MY nest!::** she emphasized her last word with an angry hiss. 

Voldemort listened with amusement as Nagini tilted her head at the explanation. **::That's unfortunate. You'll be safer nesting here. These humans are tame and do not attack.::**

He sputtered in surprise at his snake's pronouncement. His tone held a warning. **::Nagini, she's an enemy, not one of us.::**

**::She speaks with Nagini properly, she has survival instincts, and her venom smells strong. The bite to the Strange One should kill her soon. Of course she's one of us.::**

He stilled at the mention of venom. Hermione looked equally surprised, her hand flying to cover her mouth. His mind translated the snake-speak, remembering how she often referred to Bellatrix Lestrange as the Strange One. He started to ask if his guess was correct, but she interrupted. 

**::Make Professor Snape take Bellatrix a bezoar, please!::** Her pointed teeth dug into her lip gently. **::I bit her when she grabbed me. I didn't, I had no idea, I swear!::** She covered her face, but a small sob escaped.

Oh, to be so affected by a kill again! With a heavy sigh, he summoned Snape via Dark Mark. The wizard billowed into the room quickly, but Voldemort gave him little time for niceties. "Visit Bellatrix. She's been poisoned and is in need of immediate treatment." His eyes drifted back to the girl for a moment. "A bezoar should do, I believe."

Snape's brow rose, but he bowed and took off to do his lord's bidding. 

Silence filled the room. It wasn't awkward, of course. Lord Voldemort didn't do awkward silences, ever. 

Nagini edged down the arm of the settee and climbed up Hermione's chair instead. Her body encircled the witch, part of her body resting across the girl while the snake's head nuzzled her cheek. **::Do not be too sad. You will catch prey eventually.::**

A teary laughed answered the attempt at comfort, and Hermione's hands left her face to run across the scaled coils in her lap. **::Thanks, Nagini. I'm sure you're right.::**

Annoyed that his own familiar had abandoned him for the sniffling witch, Voldemort stood and cast a bland look at the pair. **::Come, Little One. It is time to nest, I grow weary of this night. Snape can take care of our... guest, once he cleans up her mess with Bellatrix.::**

Nagini slipped to the floor, following her master as she damned well should! She paused, though, when they reached the door. One could almost call the look she gave him reproachful, if the Dark Lord were to allow anyone to judge him as less than perfect. With a huff, she exited the room and headed down the maze of halls to his suite. 

Voldemort's knuckles whitened where he gripped the doorknob. He was not getting reprimanded by his pet for treatment of a prisoner! Without turning to face the girl, he rasped out a command. **::Stay in this room, and you will remain unharmed. I will summon you a suitable guide shortly.::**

On his way to his quarters for the night, Voldemort summoned one of the Malfoy house elves to prepare a spare room on his floor. His wards prevented all but himself and Nagini from entering his personal portion of the manor; surely his Little One would find his attempt at hospitality acceptable. Nagini's ire could be a terrifying thing, one even he preferred to avoid. 

She eyed him as he entered their suite, almost as if she could determine his actions from his appearance alone. Apparently satisfied with whatever she'd seen, Nagini curled onto her side of the huge bed and drifted to sleep. He shed his robes and slid between the silk sheets with a pleased groan, glad to see the day done. He hissed a quiet good night into the darkness as he shut his tired eyes. 

Being the Dark Lord was exhausting!


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione woke up with frustrated tears in her eyes. She dashed them away immediately, determined to stay calm. Logically, her dreams were the result of that bloody potion! 

Memories had accosted her all night, innocuous in their content. Normally, the dreams would've been a welcomed reprieve from nightmares of her friends dying in future battles. However, nothing made sense. She clearly recalled being part of each memory, but she watched them as an outsider and understood nothing of the playful banter between friends. That day taught her Harry's favorite song, which she remembered, but she couldn't actively recall the memory without experiencing it as a parselmouth. Damn it!

Sometimes magic seemed more like a curse than a blessing. 

Struggling past her sinking mood, Hermione climbed out of her bed and smoothly wrapped herself in a robe. The little house elf who'd guided her to her gilded cage had been kind and courteous, showing her where the bathroom and other necessities were located with gestures and a bit of charades. He'd pressed a chain into her palm, showing her an ornately decorated whistle attached at the bottom. Looping it over her head, he'd imitated blowing it and pointed to himself. The message was clear: if you need anything, just whistle. 

The bathroom glowed from a charmed window, the scene a bright and beautiful sunrise. Almost against her will, Hermione released a pent-up breath and relaxed. At this point, holding onto her anxiety and fear seemed a tad ridiculous. How much worse could her situation be? 

That was a stupid question. She knew just how lucky she was. She was breathing, relatively unharmed, and her sanity was still intact. 

At her touch, the taps began to fill the deep marble tub with lightly scented water. With a sniff, she noticed something like patchouli, an ocean breeze, and a touch of petrichor. The blend pleased her, oddly enough. Stripping off her clothes, she sank into the warm pool with a quiet moan, her eyes closing in surrender to the sensation of floating in a calm sea.

She yelped when bony fingers touched her shoulder. Whipping her head around, she found the house elf looking at her sheepishly. He waved toward a folded stack of clothing by the vanity, then presented her with a strange letter. It almost looked like a Howler, but the envelope was a deep royal blue. As her fingers touched the parchment, it folded itself into a mouth with a forked tongue, a hissed invitation escaping its magical lips.

 **::Your presence is required in my study immediately. You will cooperate with Ziggy and present yourself for interrogation. Resistance is not suggested.::**

The message paused, as if ended. A quiet sibilance tacked on, **::Breakfast will be provided upon your arrival.::**

Frowning with confusion, Hermione watched the envelope as it crumbled itself into a ball before popping out of existence. She suddenly realized that Ziggy still stood there, silently guiding a towel to float by the tub. He gave her another of his pointed stares before leaving the room. Recognizing her lack of choice in the matter, she quickly dried herself and reached for the robes he'd provided. 

The soft slate blue robes warmed at her touch, likely spelled to do so as a protection against the season's chill. Her potion-induced sensitivity across her skin reached positively to the heat, making her hum with contentment. She almost wondered how they'd known her size, but then she laughed at herself. 

Magic, of course. 

Fur-lined slippers padded her footsteps as she twisted her damp hair into a loose bun. Stepping into the hallway, she found Ziggy patiently waiting for her. With a small bow, he started down the hall at a brisk pace. His legs were short enough, though, to allow her to walk more sedately behind him without getting left behind. 

They stopped outside of a large oak door, the house elf knocking softly before pushing it open. He ushered her into the room, the door clicking shut quietly as he left. 

Hermione peered around the large room in surprise. She didn't know what she'd expected of Voldemort's personal study, but the off-white walls and pale oak furnishings seemed ill suited to the Dark Lord. Lamps shone brightly throughout the room, the effect of morning light enhanced by a pair of enchanted windows; these, however, seemed to show the true English morning outside, dingy grey with the promise of rain. 

A cough drew her attention to the desk she'd studiously been avoiding. Professor Snape stood before it, while Voldemort reclined in his chair behind it. A glint of amusement shined in the wizard's eyes, while her ex-professor looked slightly ill. Great. 

The two men spoke for a moment, Voldemort clearly instructing Snape. Her stomach sank when she realized what they were after. Of course! Both wizards were masters of Legilimency, and both knew she'd been made privy to information on the Order, their plans, and their current intel. She clenched her fists and squeezed her eyes shut in helpless resentment. She'd be the death of her friends and family, and there was little she could do to avoid it. 

A nudge against her ankle made her look down. Nagini flicked her tongue, tasting Hermione's mood in the air. **::Why are you upset, New One? Did your breakfast escape?::**

The quiet question pulled a sad smile to the witch's face. **::I haven't had breakfast yet, Nagini. Your Master required... my presence first.::** She swallowed harshly against her emotions.

 **::Master can be obstinate. He is more human than snake, but Nagini likes him anyway.::** The snake rubbed against her leg, much like a cat seeking attention. **::You are more snake than human. Master will learn to appreciate his new pet. You will see.::** She slithered away to the hearth, seeking out the warmth of its banked fire.

The sharp silence following Nagini's statement made Hermione look up. Both Snape and Voldemort stared at her. An odd expression of anxiety painted Snape's face, out of place considering his animosity toward her. The Dark Lord scowled, clearly displeased with the conversation he'd heard. 

Impulsively, Hermione curtsied and bowed her head. **::You asked for me, my lord?::** The phrase tasted funny on her tongue, but she ignored it. 

He scrutinized her, probably looking for deceit or sarcasm. Motioning to one of the chairs across from his desk, he bid her welcome. **::Yes, Miss Granger. Have a seat.::** She obeyed, and he gave Snape a curt nod. 

The man hesitated, apprehension clear in his eyes. Hermione wondered. Who did Severus Snape truly give his loyalty to? He looked too ill at ease with Voldemort's commands. Perhaps he too recognized how much she would unwillingly reveal when they breached her mind?

Kneeling to peer into Hermione's eyes, Snape wasted no words before diving into her mind. It stung, but she endured it without comment. His confusion brushed across her mind, along with an image of Harry. She saw one of her last memories as it was pulled to the surface of her mind. People rushed into Grimmauld, the crush of bodies in and out suffocating her. 

The memory jerked away, and another from last year took its place. She sat in Potions, trying to explain something to Harry without Snape noticing; she couldn't tell what it had been that particular time, though, as her memory couldn't translate around the mess of confusion caused by that damned parseltongue potion. Snape seemed to catch the tail-end of her thought, tugging forward the smell of rotten seaweed and burnt ozone before it slipped out of reach. 

She blinked as she felt him slip out of her mind again. Her head ached, but she got the distinct impression that he'd been gentle in his search; she remembered how Harry had complained about Snape's violent incursions, so the gentleness was unexpected to say the least. 

Snape muttered some explanation to Voldemort, and red eyes grew bright with something like excitement. He smiled sharply at Hermione, making her shiver. **::You truly are a puzzle. I'll enjoy prying your secrets free.::**

His words were the only warning of his intent before he submerged himself in her mind. 

Pain seared through her as he ripped through memory after memory. He hardly stopped long enough to see the subject before flipping forward. Harry's face splashed across the surface of her thoughts repeatedly, each appearance seeming to anger Voldemort further. Everything stayed fuzzy and indecipherable, even under his skilled manipulations. 

A gap in the pressurized agony made her act on instinct. She followed the feeling of escape, arriving in an unfamiliar memory. A tall, dark-haired boy leaned against a tree, his eyes skimming the dark lake before him. The natural quiet of night surrounded them. He sank to the ground, hands covering his face as he buried it in his knees. A sob escaped him, his body shaking with the force of his pain. She almost reached out to the boy, but what comfort could she provide to a memory?

A twig snapped somewhere behind her, and the boy's eyes flew to its source. She gasped as his face came into view under the dim moonlight. She recognized him now, from Harry's description years ago. Tom Riddle glared into the night, looking so lost and forlorn that she couldn't will herself to turn away. 

**::GET OUT!::**

The backhand across her face tore her back to consciousness, Voldemort's eyes flaming in the heat of his fury. He towered over her, having moved from his seat somehow while digging through her mind. Hermione gingered touched her lip, realizing it had been cut against her fangs with the strike. Her fingers drew away bloodied by the wound. 

She realized abruptly what had just happened. She'd managed to violate the Dark Lord's mind, against his will. His heaving breaths spoke quite loudly as to his anger. Her eyes flew to Snape. He'd backed away to the wall, as if removing himself as a target for Voldemort's wrath. 

Thinking quickly, Hermione tugged the whistle she'd been given from the neck of her robe and blew for help. Ziggy appeared with a crack, bowing to her before taking in the scene. Uncertainty painted his features as he wrung his hands. She hadn't thought! How could a Death Eater's house elf help an enemy of his masters? What if he tried to punish himself? What if Voldemort killed him just for showing up?

Before she could decide what to do, Voldemort pivoted back to his desk. His tight-lipped words sent a chill down her spine. **::Get out of my sight.::**

Terrified, she fled from the room.


	7. Chapter 7

Watching the witch flee from his study, Voldemort stiffened as he noticed Snape. The potion master had his uses, as a spy, as a potioneer, as a replacement headmaster. Standing witness to his lord's weakness was not one of them. 

" _Crucio!_ " A delicious scream tore from the wizard's lips. Voldemort reigned in his temper, releasing Snape from the curse after only a minute. No one else could fill his place, after all; it'd be foolish to break his most useful tool. 

The memory resurfaced again, released from whatever corner it had been repressed into before the invasion of his shields. He rejected the ache that accompanied those long lost tears, stabbing at Snape once again. " _Crucio._ "

Calmer, he admitted the error of torturing his semi-loyal servant in place of the girl. Hermione Granger, his puzzle. His prize. He'd unlock her secrets and destroy Harry Potter once and for all. She wouldn't live long enough to tell anyone of his past. 

His rage deflated. He lifted the curse with a silent flick of his wand. Returning to his seat, he waited for Snape to pull himself from his ungraceful sprawl across the floor. "Severus, you have failed me."

"My lord?" Snape choked out through his raw throat. 

"The girl's memories touched on a potion, presumably the source of her sudden talent." His quill scraped across parchment, noting the smell and taste of the vial she'd swallowed. Most of the ingredients had been indistinguishable in her memory, but the smell had been rather distinct. "I've listed the information available in her mind. Find the recipe."

He picked up on Snape's unsteady rise, but it didn't matter. The man would be well enough to return to his place. He accepted a bow from the fool before handing over his notes and dismissing him. As Snape left to attend to his headmaster duties, Voldemort sneered. One of the fringe benefits of Dumbledore's death had been the mistrust of Snape's allies. The spy remained trapped between two suspicious camps with no way to redeem himself fully in either's eyes. How unfortunate for him!

With a dark smirk, Voldemort turned his attention to his correspondence from the morning's post. Nagini's exit went unnoticed.

* * *

Ziggy managed to catch up to Hermione in her room. Her heart still raced as she plopped onto the bed. The fact her heart still beat in her chest was a pleasant surprise. Voldemort's fury at her presence in his memory had been overwhelmingly intimidating. His command to leave, in place of a painful curse or her own death, had been a gift. She'd seized the chance to escape immediately. 

The house elf tapped on her knee to draw her attention. He signed as if taking an exaggerated bite of porridge, then waited. Oh, he wanted to know if she was hungry. Right. Her dazed nod was answered with the appearance of a small tray. Ziggy took it to the table near the hearth, then bid her to sit before it.

He bowed and left once she settled in front of her breakfast. A plate of eggs, bacon, and toast steamed under a charm. Hermione picked at the food, eating automatically while lost in her thoughts. 

Nagini's familiar hiss drew her attention to the present. **::Master did not keep his word to feed the New One this morning. Nagini will need to bite him.::**

 **::What?::** She frowned as the serpent climbed onto the lounge across from her. **::I'm eating breakfast right now.::**

**::He did not provide it. The Tiny One feeds you, but Master does not. Perhaps you should bite him, though Nagini cannot be sure he would survive your venom.::**

**::Would he survive yours?::**

**::Of course! Master is immune, but teeth still puncture flesh when necessary.::** Her tone dipped to something threatening and wild, a reminder of Nagini's natural state. 

The nonchalant discussion of biting and poisoning the Dark Lord confused Hermione. **::I don't think biting your Master is a good idea. He'd probably pull my teeth one by one as payback.::**

The sound that escaped the snake could only be described as a laugh. **::You understand Master better than expected! And you survived capture by Master's wizards, and his angry light stick. You have earned a name in this nest. Nagini will call you... Clever One.::**

She raised a brow at Nagini's announcement, but accepted her strange appraisal. **::Um... thank you?::**

They sat in companionable silence. Hermione relaxed into her chair and let her mind wander. Had it really been less than 24 hours since she'd been taken? She could clearly envision the panic her kidnapping would've triggered within the Order. Had Voldemort sent any visions to Harry that included her, alive and well? She doubted he would, not if he could help it. The stress of not knowing would be a good weapon, keeping everyone distracted. 

She jerked out of her melancholic reverie when the door openned. Ziggy marched in looking displeased, a snap of his fingers vanishing her breakfast tray. As he muttered to himself and charmed the fire to blaze once again, she spied the clock. Time flew when imagining the worst case scenario, she supposed; noon approached swiftly as she'd sat about moping to herself.

The house elf disappeared into the bathroom just down the hall, and she heard angry thunks and clinks as he rifled through drawers and cabinets. His unintelligible words only stopped with the crack of his apparition. 

Nagini uncoiled from the lounge lazily. **::The Tiny Ones always get angry when Master brings in the Scentless Ones.::**

**::Scentless Ones?::**

She bared her fangs, an almost smile. **::The Blood Eaters, the ones who make humans prey? Nagini does not like their false civility. At least the Smelly Ones are honest in their wildness.::**

Hermione tried to imagine just who Nagini spoke of. The scentless blood-eaters were probably vampires; everyone knew they congregated to Voldemort's side. Thinking of the rumors she'd read, she balked. **::Do you mean the vampires and werewolves both side with your Master?::**

 **::Of course,::** came Nagini's unconcerned response. **::Master does not fear them, so they respect him. He talks as predator, not prey.::**

Did the Order know they'd already lost the werewolf packs to the Dark Lord? Remus had been making excursions into various territories for months, often returning with severe wounds and little commitment from those he visited. Did he know his visits were in vain?

Hermione tried not to judge magical creatures based on rumor and superstition, but she couldn't help her relief in being caged in Voldemort's private wing. Surely he'd meet with his vampires somewhere else in the manor, somewhere nice and far from Hermione. Then again, who knew if she was even edible anymore? How human was her body under the influence of this potion? 

Shuddering at the thought of being mistaken for refreshments, she gladly frittered away the afternoon in her rooms with Nagini. The snake seemed to enjoy speaking with someone other than her Master, whatever that might mean.

* * *

**::You will present yourself for a meeting this evening, after sunset. Use the potions provided by your house elf; they will prepare you for our visitors. Wear the designated clothes, and be prepared to follow my orders without question. Failure to cooperate is ill advised.::**

The blue parchment hissing in her hands made Hermione pale considerably. It shriveled into a ball and puffed out of existence just as Ziggy grabbed her hand and led her to the bathroom. She bathed quickly, an uncomfortable chill sinking into her bones. The elegant dress provided for her hung off both shoulders, her neck vulnerably exposed. Its thin burgundy fabric held no charms to warm her, leaving her sickeningly aware of the lack of protection it provided. The additional lack of underthings and shoes were a slap to the face.

The potions on the vanity were familiar, a Blood Replenishing Potion and a Calming Draught. Her stomach clenched as she swallowed them obediently. Voldemort made his intentions plain; she would pay for penetrating his mind earlier. She could only hope his interest in her memories and parseltongue ability outweighed his desire for revenge.

Reaching deep for some Gryffindor courage, Hermione deftly tucked her hair into a high bun. A few ringlets danced across the edges of her hairline, tickling her scales as she moved. Why wear her hair down and pretend it armor? Surely that's the kind of silliness Voldemort expected of her. Pinching a bit of color back into her cheeks, she signaled for Ziggy to lead the way.

She'd rather be unpredictable.


	8. Chapter 8

The ballroom had been prepared quite specifically that evening, as Voldemort desired an alliance with the vampire broods of Europe rather than their previous promises of neutrality and non-involvement. 

He watched with detached amusement as the night's refreshments were brought in and pushed into chairs throughout the room. Some were bound and cast under silencing bubbles, while others sat demurely in their seats to await the Kiss. He'd heard that a vampire's bite could be seductive and addictive, and the volunteers seemed to be proof of that. The prisoner's forced to entertain the guests served an additional purpose, fear and adrenaline flooding their veins. As with wine, blood was often sought out by its vintage of sorts; he'd gone to great lengths ensuring his guests would each find something to their taste. 

His Death Eaters bowed on their way out, undoubtedly glad not to be seated as a snack. Two of the unwilling refreshments, after all, were men who'd failed their Lord in a recent raid. None of his amusement showed as he waved them out of the room; it wouldn't do for them to believe themselves safe in his presence. 

The clock struck seven, and the sun was well and truly set. Voldemort scanned the ballroom once more, his eyes alighting on the ironwork chair sitting alone on the dais. He looked forward to teaching Hermione her place. Sweeping out of sight, he accepted a snifter of brandy from a passing house elf and waited for showtime. 

The vampire representatives arrived en masse, as if they'd traveled together. Then again, how many safe places could be found nearby for sleep? The Camarilla and Anatola broods had each sent several dozen members to his invitation; he'd be surprised to hear if anyone bothered to stay behind from their ranks. Meanwhile, Sanguini himself was the only member of his brood to arrive, as if he preferred to protect them from the Dark Lord via their absence. 

Speaking of Sanguini, the vampire truly knew how to ruin an entrance. He drifted over to Voldemort's hidden alcove, accepting the angry application of a disillusionment spell as he took a bow. "Good evening, my lord."

"Sanguini," Voldemort answered. Annoyed or not, he knew better than to lash out at a potential ally in the presence of so many undecided minds. "Your brood is doing well, I hope?" 

The man understood the underlying reproach for his decision to send only himself in response to the Dark Lord's invitation. With a cheeky grin, Sanguini waved a dismissive hand at the others gathering in the ballroom. "Unlike those of weaker minds, my brood knows I will make the best decision for our continued well-being."

"I'm sure you'll make the correct decision, given the opportunity to do so." 

Noticing the entry of his final guests, Voldemort released the disillusionment spells over them both and gestured for the vampire to lead the way. As they walked out onto the dais, Sanguini made the wise decision to continue out into the crowd. The Dark Lord kept his thoughts to himself as he raised his voice in greeting. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Malfoy Manor. I am pleased to see so many have accepted my invitation to discuss mutually beneficial arrangements. But please, mix and mingle! Enjoy the refreshments, and then we can discuss business." His eyes traveled to the door at the back of the room as it opened. 

Defiant eyes met his, but the witch made no move to enter until he stepped aside and motioned to the mock throne behind him on the platform. With a deep breath, Hermione swept into the ballroom, vampires parting to allow her through the crowd. Voldemort was almost impressed by her steady gait and unwavering gaze; the girl showed no fear, even surrounded by predators. 

Her bare feet padded softly on the marble floor as she approached. She'd gone so far as to do up her hair, leaving her neck exposed; he'd assumed, incorrectly it seemed, that she'd try to hide under the mass of curls once she discovered his intentions. It was both vexing and gratifying to experience such blatant disregard for the fear his very presence was meant to convey. When was the last time anyone under his thumb bothered to squirm for freedom? 

Hermione paused before the dais, dipping into a deep curtsy. Before he could determine whether or not she mocked him, the witch rose and ascended the steps to her assigned seat. She looked regal, as if it truly were a throne. 

That would never do. 

A sinister smile crossed his face as Voldemort turned his attention back to the gathered vampires. "Friends, allow me to introduce my pet Hermione Granger." A murmured rippled through the crowd, while the girl remained impassive and unaffected. "She is here at my command, a reminder of how useless it is to struggle against me. I am the Dark Lord Voldemort, and my will is law." His wand tapped on the iron chair, and a dozen needles erupted under her left arm. She jerked away, cradling the wounded limb, but the damage was done. 

Every eye in the room centered on her.

* * *

The party was in full swing as midnight approached. Some of the refreshments had been swapped out, be they drained dry or in need of a Blood Replenishing Potion. The Anatola brood pledged their support moments after Hermione's arrival, seemingly impressed with his capture of a member of the Golden Trio. 

The witch in question had remained surprisingly silent. 

Hermione discovered the unique function of her throne quickly. Enduring the needles puncturing her arms, back, and legs meant avoiding the fangs of thirsty vampires. Instead, it funneled her blood into goblets upon request, allowing them a taste of his captive with minimal damage. And taste her they did. The only guests seemingly uninterested in her were Annabelle Camarilla and Sanguini.

Her pale skin enhanced the shimmery glow of her scales. The potion he'd made to take would keep her conscious throughout the long evening, a reminder to her of his power and her lack thereof. Several vampires asked what she was, why she tasted like pepper and thunder. He filed away the information and bid them to ponder the mystery as if it were simply a party game to discover the answer. The Dark Lord would never admit not knowing something, especially to those he intended to persuade as future allies. 

That said, Severus had better figure out just what potion she'd taken, and soon. Knowing the source of both her parseltongue and her animal attributes would go along way toward determining his next steps toward victory over Harry Potter. Perhaps the creature blood in Hermione would allow her to be persuaded to switch sides. 

Voldemort spoke with a pair of vampires from Amsterdam when he overheard Sanguini by the young witch's side. She hissed in pain as he rested a careless hand on her arm, presumably pushing the chair's needles further into her tender flesh. 

"Madame Granger," he whispered, hiding his lips against her ear. "I'm intrigued to see you serving us in such a state. When did He turn you? Was it after your capture? Or did you bespell yourself into this hybrid form?"

As she hadn't spoken to anyone all evening, the Dark Lord knew Sanguini was unaware of her inability to understand his questions, let alone answer them. It amused him to hear the attempt at conversation. He nodded at something Lars Stegenga said while maintaining his eavesdropping.

"Surely you are allowed to speak? Or perhaps He has blocked your mind from such things? Is that why you sit here and allow us to sup from your veins? Accepting the Kiss would be better, you know, more pleasurable for both of us. Here, allow me."

Voldemort turned in time to see Sanguini leaning toward Hermione, staring eye to eye with the girl in an attempt to thrall her. His companions grew silent, and a hush fell over the crowd as they watched the tableau. The vampire himself seemed completely unaware, his focus solely on Hermione. 

Remembering his experience with legilimency on her mind, Voldemort couldn't help but wonder if a vampire's thrall would be more successful.


	9. Chapter 9

What the hell was this vampire playing at?

Hermione flinched as his hand caressed her forearm, the pressure sending those stupid iron spines further into her abused flesh. His words were an annoying rumble against her ear, hopefully nothing too intimate. Apparently he missed the memo and thought her a conversationalist.

The young-looking vampire seemed familiar, as if she might've met him before. The only vampire she could recall meeting, though, was that guy at Slughorn's dinner party... what was his name? 

Fingers brushed her chin, forcing her to make eye contact. As her mind slipped away, Hermione could hear the ballroom go quiet. 

This felt weird. Her focus on the outer world disappeared, but she found herself completely annoyed at the pressure of someone else's mind on hers. It felt like an unwanted hug, slightly skeezy. Hissing into the echoing expanse of her own mind, she pushed back. Hard. 

An image of the vampire pulled to the foreground of her thoughts. Why? A strange sensation licked over her consciousness, and she suddenly jerked away. Was that compulsion? No, he wouldn't dare! Hermione found herself imitating the sensation in reverse, tossing the same kind of wave over her invader's mind. His thoughts tugged as if pulling away, but then he froze in place and relaxed. 

Opening her eyes, she found the vampire kneeling before her chair. His eyes were level with hers, glazed with whatever control she'd managed to throw over his mind. **::Get away from me,::** she spit quietly. **::and I will release you before Voldemort notices.::**

Unfortunately, he made no move to follow her instruction. Of course. 

It was then that the Dark Lord's cold fury washed over her. **::You dare speak my name?::**

Vampires nearest to Voldemort stepped away. His words may have been in parseltongue, but his rage was palpable to all. Red eyes burned into her, even as she hesitated to break her gaze from the vampire she held. Danger pulsed at her from all sides, his magic a bruising pressure against her skin. 

**::Forgive me?::** she murmured, squeezing her eyes shut to stop terrified tears from escaping. She would not give him the pleasure of her fear.

Her captive struggled to his feet, but Voldemort quickly whipped out his wand with a sharp hex. The vampire staggered and fell, blood running from every orifice. He cried out, but the room stood in frozen tableau as the wizard began to bleed him dry. 

Hermione's eyes fluttered across the crowd. Didn't Voldemort realize how on edge his guests were? Didn't he notice the fangs bared at his attack on one of their own? Her fear morphed as she considered what might happen if he finished off the one who'd cornered her. 

Clenching her teeth, she heaved herself up from the needled surface of her chair and held the arm as she swayed. Wow, she'd lost more blood than she'd thought! Shaking her head clear, she limped a step toward Voldemort. A pin drop would've been heard in the quiet of the room. 

Clearing her throat, she reached out an arm toward the Dark Lord's wand, not daring to touch him in his heightened state of anger. **::My, my lord? Please, stop this. Whoever he is, his death will ruin your plans if you don't stop.::**

The cold mask that turned to her made Hermione's stomach drop. She lowered her eyes in submission, hoping he'd listen. His wand dipped, releasing the vampire's convulsing form from whatever bloodletting curse had stricken him. Swallowing hard, she spared a glance to the crowd and realized her mistake. 

From the outside, one might think she'd ordered the Dark Lord himself to stop. 

He glided to her side slowly, silently. His hand encircled her throat with a harsh squeeze. The calculated gleam in his eye made her nervous. **::You do not know your place.::** His fingers tightened, digging into the tender flesh of her neck as she struggled to remain still. 

His voice buzzed through her as he gave a speech to the crowd; it almost seemed apologetic, or as close to it as he might get. Hermione's head spun from her restricted breath as the crowd applauded politely. She struggled to stay conscious, her body's exhaustion and blood loss making the urge to give into the pain irresistible. 

A painful flex of his grip forced her eyes to his once more. **::I look forward to teaching you your place.::** He shoved her into a sprawl across the dais. With a snap of his fingers, Ziggy appeared and grabbed her arm. The darkness enveloped her as they disapparated.

* * *

_She swam deeply, her body cutting through the water like an arrow. The darkness soothed her, its lack of light hiding her home more safely from those human predators. Bioluminescence flickered from smaller creatures all around her, a starry night in the depths of the ocean. A ripple of emotions brushed her mind, and she turned toward it..._

.....

_Her first swimming lesson had been a disaster. No book could prepare her for the push Kyle gave her, throwing her face first into the deep end of the pool. She gasped, flailing her arms and legs in an attempt to surface. Water rushed into her lungs, burning and making her panic further. Fatigued by the lack of oxygen, she slowed her movements and closed her eyes against the growing darkness..._

.....

_She felt herself watching as if the scene were a play. A middle-aged man stood by the shore, eyes glinting as he gazed across the horizon. His dark hair swirled around him as waves broke against the rocky coastline. His fingers idly twirled his wand as he watched the night fall. His thin frame bent, long fingers scooping up a stone from the coarse sand. He stared at it for a moment, crushing his hand around it so tightly that she was surprised to see the rock still there, rather than powdered dust. With an angry groan, the man heaved the rock toward the ocean, watching as it plunged into the waters…_

.....

_Something pulsed around her, almost as if it held its own heartbeat. Warm waters floated her in this strange void. Sound filtered in, muffled and indistinguishable in the dark liquid surrounding her. It filled her with happiness, though, because somehow she knew this ocean was her mother..._

.....

_A small boy splashed along the riverbed as the sun faded. He ignored the growing darkness, enjoying the feel of the cool water against his skin. The air felt hot and sticky with summer heat. He plopped down, uncaring that his clothes were going to be ruined. It didn't seem to matter. He frowned into the distance, only to feel something slither over his fingers. A glance down made him freeze at the sight of a small snake, but he relaxed when it spoke. **::Are you food?::** He laughed. **::No, I don't think I'd be good food. I'd give you a tummy ache!::**_

.....

_She slipped into the hot bath and sighed. The hot water soothed her aching muscles, wiping away the horrors of the past week. She brushed away thoughts of how close Ginny had come to death. Instead, she focused on the way the swirling water soothed muscles stiff from petrification. She flicked her wand at the lights, dimming them to near darkness. Resting her head against the lip of the tub, she closed her eyes to rest, the waters buoying her worries away for a time..._

.....

_Rain poured down in buckets, drenching everything in sight. The lake's surface became a chaos of splashes and ripples, as if everything that lived within it were ready to boil up and revolt. A single student stood near the shore, standing under a small tree that did nothing to block the storm. Branches stood bare in the dark of night, autumn having long since stripped the life from its body. The person shivered against the cold, but they made no move to retreat to shelter. Their resentment and misery flowed through her. She squinted as lightning flashed to light up his face, and suddenly she knew she'd found Tom..._

* * *

Jolting awake, Hermione's hand flew to her throat. The tender flesh confused her, as did the welling of tears in her eyes. She ached, the chill of Tom's anguish still washing over her. Realizing she lay in her gilded cage once again, she burrowed her face into the pillows and did the only thing she could. She cried. 

For herself, locked away against her will. 

For Tom Riddle, the lost boy and the broken man. 

And for Lord Voldemort, the monster they'd become.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPELL NOTE: Exsanguis is Latin for "bloodless", so I tweaked it to create the curse to remove blood from the vampire.

**::You dare speak my name?::**

**::Forgive me?::**

Voldemort's fury at her audacity brought his wand forth, a curse on the tip of his tongue. He hesitated, not wanting to damage her beyond use but unable to quell the dark rage boiling under his skin. When Sanguini suddenly lurched away from her, the wizard lashed out with glee. 

_"Exsanguo!"_

He watched passively as the vampire twitched and screeched under his power, blood collecting on the marble floor. Immortal as he may be, Sanguini could die under the Dark Lord's curse. The thought pleased him. 

**::My, my lord? Please, stop this! Whoever he is, his death will ruin your plans if you don't stop.::**

A cold anger washed over Voldemort as he realized she was right. The stupid chit dared to remind him of the danger he faced in turning on one of the creatures he'd invited into his home. Civil as they acted, he knew himself ridiculously outnumbered by powerful beings on the edge of beastiality. Cursing himself for losing control, he turned to Hermione. 

She cowered, eyes downcast. He lifted his curse from Sanguini, mentally calculating how to spin this... outburst. He could sense the barely contained violence swirling through the room, and too many eyes focused on the girl. As if she'd saved the vampire whelp! The girl couldn't even save herself. 

His hand encircled her throat, giving it a harsh squeeze. The Dark Lord would not appear to obey this slip of a girl, not if he wanted to be taken seriously. **::You do not know your place.::** His fingers tightened, yet Hermione remained still rather than struggling from his grasp. Smart choice. 

Raising his voice for the crowd, he spoke in sincere tones. "With the utmost respect, I ask that you forgive me, my friends! Sanguini attempted to take liberties with my pet that I had not offered up for use. I do hope this outburst has not ruined the possibility of our mutually beneficial arrangements." A polite wave of applause filled the room, breaking the silent scene his actions had created.

His gaze returned to Hermione's face, her consciousness slipping. He snarled, forcing her to look him in the eye. **::I look forward to teaching you your place.::** Releasing her neck with a push, he sent her spilling to the floor. He summoned her assigned elf and gestured for her to be taken away from the ballroom. They popped out of existence. 

Returning to the party, Voldemort spent an hour reiterating his position. The matriarch Annabelle Camarilla had seemed especially interested in his pet; she'd discussed the girl's parseltongue and appearance before wandering off to speak with her broodmates. She'd returned with their promise of allegiance. An extra offering of a nubile young woman soothed Sanguini's wounded pride, as well as refilling his gut. By the end of the night, the vampire broods had all agreed to stand by his side.

* * *

The tumbler of firewhiskey clinked as he turned it in his hand. Voldemort sat in his private study, having directed his Death Eaters to ensure the exit of his vampiric guests before the sun could trap them in the Manor. 

He threw back a gulp of the fiery liquid, cringing at his own actions. He loathed to admit it, but he was angry with himself. Self-control was something he'd prided himself on since his early days; he'd freed himself from the baser instincts of his peers long before graduating from Hogwarts and starting his rise to power. 

Perhaps the destruction of his diary had done more damage than he'd thought. The searing pain of that night had seemed to be the sole result of Lucius Malfoy's disobedience. Considering the magical theory behind the creation of his horcruxes, Voldemort had reasoned two possibilities for their destruction: a piece of him would be destroyed forever, or the released piece would return to the core. 

When the same agony had visited him weeks ago, he'd assumed another horcrux had fallen into enemy hands. Waking with his human features more prominent had been unexpected, but it had solidified his theory with fact. His soul wanted to be whole again, so each released piece would return to him upon the destruction of his cursed objects. While frustrating, it worked as an early warning system as the Order worked to whittle away his immortality. 

Taking a small sip of the harsh alcohol, he relaxed his head back and closed his eyes. Perhaps his emotions were simply returning faster than he had been prepared to deal with. It would explain his sudden outburst during a diplomatic meeting with dozens of potential vampire allies. He shuddered to think what might've happened if that witch hadn't reminded him of his goal. 

Hermione had protected his plans, his hard-won efforts. In a way, she'd protected him. 

The sound of a vent cover creaking open and shut told him Nagini had returned from wherever she'd gone for dinner. He allowed himself to smile. His familiar knew him better than anyone or anything alive; she was the closest thing to a friend her had, her words often a balm for his frazzled mind. He would almost go so far as to say he - 

\- "FUCK!" Nagini's fangs tore a surprised shout from his lips. They sunk deep into his calf, releasing quickly as she arched back to strike again. His glass spilled from hand, shattered across the floor. She punctured his thigh before he summoned the presence of mind to raise his wand. " _Stupefy!_ "

Nagini wound under his desk, dodging his slopping spellcasting with ease. Bewildered and enraged by her attack, he stumbled away from the hidden danger and glowered at her. **::What the fuck is wrong with you?::**

**::The Clever One is hurt! Master hurt her! Nestmates are not prey!::**

Voldemort frowned, trying to follow her snake speech. **::Nestmates? Who is hurt, Nagini?::**

She peered at him from the shadows of his desk. Her eyes glinted in the dim light of the fireplace, stirring a strange sensation of discomfort in the wizard's heart. **::The Clever One. Her blood scents her room, and her skin tastes like Master's magic... and fear.::** Her hiss took on an angry edge at the end of her statement. 

That explained her ire. Voldemort growled under his breath, silently healing the wounds his feisty pet had inflicted. The urge to punish her rose, but he swallowed it down. **::What would you have me do, to make this up to you?::**

**::Me? Nagini was not injured, Master.::**

**::Fine. How would you suggest I make this up to the Clever One?::** He bit out Nagini's apparent name for the witch, annoyed that she'd grown so attached to his prisoner. Traitor... 

Nagini tilted her head, contemplating his question seriously it seemed. She moved toward him, but Voldemort made no effort to get away from the approaching snake. She seemed calmer. Her hiss was almost too soft to understand. **::Perhaps Master should share an inside piece with the Clever One, like Nagini?::**

He balked. **::I will not make another horcrux, not from a mortal creature. Remember, Nagini, you are... special.::**

**::The Clever One is special, too.::**

**::Not that kind of special,::** he muttered under his breath. 

**::Master needs to tie the Clever One to us, to our nest. She would be safer if others knew that she belongs to you.::**

A dark grin twisted his lips. **::You're quite right, Nagini. Everyone needs to know her place...::**

* * *

Voldemort waited until the next evening to put his plan into motion. Nagini trailed him through the halls, having informed him that the Clever One had healed enough to move around on her own. Impressive, though he'd never admit it. 

Entering his study, he waved Ziggy out and shut the door. Hermione stood at the center of the room, unmoving as she watched him approach. Her Gryffindor courage annoyed him, but he resisted the impulse to torture her into cowering before him. That wouldn't assist his plan. 

**::Have a seat, Miss Granger.::** His tone sounded soft and caring, a ruse the witch seemed to see straight through as she gingerly accepted his direction. They settled into chairs by his floo, her hands resting daintily in her lap as she sat on the edge of her seat. While her anxiety amused him, he didn't have the patience to milk it. **::I have a proposition for you, one that you will have no choice but to accept.::**

As she brushed her hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture, the puncture wounds lining her arm stood out bright red against her pale skin. **::Yes... my lord?::**

Good girl. She learned quickly, it seemed. Voldemort fiddled with his wand as he explained. **::Nagini has asked that I lay claim to you, to protect you against other... predators, as it were. She suggested I use you to replace certain important, powerful objects I've recently lost...::** He smirked as she gasped. 

**::No!::** Her skin grew paler, if that were possible. He reminded himself to send her a Blood Replenishing Potion, just in case. Allowing her to grow too weak would defeat his goals. 

Raising his brow, he quelled her protest with a hard look. **::She was mistaken to think I would want that kind of tie to you.::** Her instant relief brought out his twisted humor. **::However... you will take my Mark, marking you as mine and keeping you at my side.::**

 **::Sir, no! I-::** She cut off, correcting herself quickly at the twitch of his wand. **::I would make a terrible Death Eater, my lord. I would never be willing, even at the threat of death, to do what they do.::**

**::I don't need or want you in the ranks of my loyal followers, Hermione. Nagini calls you the Clever One. Surely you can imagine other uses for yourself?::**


	11. Chapter 11

**::Surely you can imagine other uses for yourself?::**

The Dark Lord's words hit Hermione like a well-aimed _Petrificus Totalus_. Her mind raced, panicked as she tried to determine what he wanted from her. If he planned to Mark her, he meant to keep her. Permanently. But to what purpose? 

She'd never betray Harry. She'd never use a breathe of magic to help his cause. She'd never give him the secrets of the Order, most of which she'd never been made privy to for the very chance of capture. 

What did he think she could do for him?

She straightened her spine and spoke, her voice coolly polite. **::Perhaps you intend to keep me as bait?::** It made the most sense. 

Voldemort chuckled, making her skin prickle with unease. **::I wouldn't want to waste your... talents. Rather, you will become my assistant, my secretary if you will. You will willingly take my Mark. You will stand by my side for each meeting and political appointment. You will obey my instructions and show decorum as well as grace, demonstrating my ability to keep you in check. You will come when I call and leave at my leisure, regardless of where and why I've called you. Your mind will open to me, and you will not fight my inspection of your thoughts.::**

**::I can't-::**

**::Think long and hard about whether it is wise to refuse. Your experience as my unwilling assistant can still be useful, as your inflamed flesh should well remind you.::**

She flinched, imagining herself offered up again as dinner. Or entertainment. Humans with wands could be a thousand times worse than a monster. Hermione licked her lip, choosing her words carefully. **::I only meant... I can't promise to open my mind. If you recall, I don't exactly have access or control to my own memories. I just...::**

**::...wanted to be cautious for your Master?::** He eyed her speculatively. **::I appreciate your concern, but let me worry about that trivial difficulty. You have no protest worthy of refusal.::** His words were a statement, as if he already saw her answer in her mind. 

**::No,::** she hissed under her breath. Her stomach dropped as his lips curled with genuine pleasure. It told her the truth: she was well and truly lost. 

Voldemort stood, hand outstretched. She accepted his guidance as he pulled her from the chair to kneel at his feet. Cold fingers ran up to her wrist, gently caressing her pulsepoint before sliding up her arm slowly. Bewildered, she stilled under his touch until his hand skimmed her tender throat. **::Yes,::** he spoke quietly to himself, **::I think it best your Mark show clearly at all times. There will be no hiding who you belong to, Hermione. Now tell me... do you accept my terms of your own free will? Lie, and the spell will kill you.::**

She hesitated, but her reality was this. She would live. As a servant or pet to the Dark Lord, sure, but she would live. The only way to stay alive long enough to possibly escape this nightmare was to willingly submit to Voldemort's whims. **::I accept your terms, and your Mark.::** Her eyes squeezed tight, she braced for pain. 

**::Good.::** A hot press of magic touched her neck, his wand trained on her jugular. He spoke again, his words hidden from her parseltongue mind. Power surged around her throat, building slowly from a mild pressure to the sensation of rope burn. She bit her own tongue to stop a cry of pain, the coppery taste of blood flooding her mouth. Still, it grew stronger. 

Her silent tears were the only sign of the Mark's effects.

* * *

Choking and dizzy from forced apparation, Hermione leaned heavily against the bathroom sink. The moment he'd finished, Voldemort had ordered her to touch the Mark in order to go get cleaned up for the evening's reports from his Death Eaters. His eagerness to show her off like a trophy might've made her more uncomfortable, had it not been for the sudden distraction of her Mark's reaction to his order. It had burned and blocked her airway, making her scramble to follow his instructions. 

The sensation of being strangled left so quickly that it made Hermione groan with relief. Her fingers traced the tender Mark as she examined herself in the mirror. A ring of black collared her, an inch of skin that looked more like dark scales than a tattoo. Had he done that on purpose? The black seemed to shimmer, an oil slick in the bathroom light. If it weren't a leash from a violent madman, it'd be beautiful. 

Shaking herself, she flipped on the shower and climbed under the hot spray. Her skin stung along her wounds, but she gritted her teeth and ignored them. The unscented soap she'd been given did little to ease the ache; she daydreamed for a moment on the bliss of a lavender bubble bath. 

She remembered how her mother had purchased her that special bath set from Rosetta's, the one for stress relief. They'd joked about Hermione's perfectionism needing the "special medication" of a good scented bath once a week. Dad had pitched in his two cents, telling the Granger women that a relaxing bath was nothing without the right biscuits. He owled her a tin of Grate Britain Cheese Biscuits once a month like clockwork, insisting that they were better than any sugary confection (muggle or wizard). Merlin, did they even know she was missing?

A tickle on her throat jerked her attention back to the bathroom. Oh, no! She quickly ended her shower and tugged on a bathrobe as the tickle turned into a burn. Damn it, she'd meant to hurry and avoid this exact situation!

Hermione tripped over her own feet as she rushed into her bedroom. She felt the Mark tighten like a noose as she tugged on a plain set of robes and slipped her feet into flats. Her hair dripped down her back, but breathing seemed more important than trying to tame her mane. With a soft pressed of fingers to flesh, she let the Mark take her away.

* * *

The room that materialized around Hermione held the unmistakeable aura of dark magic. Taking a deep breath to settle her stomach, she opened her eyes to a large dining room with poor lighting. Voldemort sat in an oversized chair at the head of the table, his eyes on a stack of papers he studied as he sipped a cup of tea. He thoroughly ignored her arrival, the bastard. 

Not sure what to do, she waited by the door where she'd landed. Her gazed drifted over the room, taking inventory of the antiques and dark artifacts lining the walls. Did the Malfoy's decorate this room for drama, or was that the Dark Lord's doing? A dozen chairs circled the dining table; she assumed his Inner Circle would attend him tonight, for it to be such a small meeting. 

Nagini nudged past Hermione with a friendly lisp. **::Is the Clever One healthy now?**

**::I... yes, Nagini. I'm feeling healthier tonight, thank you.::** What else could she say to a snake? Did Nagini even understand that Hermione was more prisoner than pet?

The serpent paused and scented the air with her tongue. **::Master has claimed you. You will be safe now.::**

Safe, right. Hermione resisted the instinct to cringe. She could feel herself being watched, making her hesitate as she tried to think of a neutral response. An amused chuckle saved her from the bother. 

**::Come, my pets. The others will arrived shortly. Take your places.::**

Voldemort gestured to his side, and she immediately complied. He hadn't triggered her Mark, but she didn't want to give him reason to do so. As she rounded the end of the table, she found a stool beside his seat. An iron stool. He wouldn't... 

Resolving to endure whatever he planned, Hermione perched herself on the stool and straightened her spine. She tucked her hands into the folds of her robes, hiding their slight tremble. She could do this. She could survive the sadism of the Dark Lord. Harry and the others would save her after they destroyed the rest of his horcruxes; she only had to keep herself alive until then. 

His papers disappeared with a wave of his hand, and he lounged back in his chair. Idly twisting his wand between his fingers, Voldemort spoke to the room rather than looking her way. **::You will not speak a word tonight, not a single hiss, unless I ask you a question. Is that clear?::**

**::Yes, my lord.::**

**::You will not make eye contact with anyone. I don't want your unique mental structure damaging a careless Legilimens.::**

She started to nod, then jolted when he turned red eyes to her face. His fingers brushed against her Mark, sending an unpleasant shiver down her spine. The tingle of its magic told her to obey his orders, or else. 

Apparently pleased with himself, Voldemort settled back again. The distinct sounds of apparation nearby heralded the arrival of his Death Eaters. Oh, goodie.


	12. Chapter 12

The Lestranges were, as usual, first to arrive. Rabastan and Rodolphus bowed before moving to take a seat. Voldemort acknowledged them casually, sighing internally when Bellatrix continued to his end of the table. The witch might be half mad, but she had a talent for extracting information. 

"My lord," she simpered. 

"Bellatrix." 

Undeterred, she glanced at Hermione and frowned. "Do you need assistance in tenderizing the mudblood, my lord? I would love to assist you in breaking this one."

His words turned cold. "Surely you don't presume to think that I need help with a single witch?"

Bellatrix gasped, dropping to her knees and shaking her head vigorously. "No, my lord! I would never suggest such a thing! Forgive my insolence!" 

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he waved her away. "Take your seat. I will deal with you later." As she scuttled away, he wondered if she irritated him on purpose. Perhaps she enjoyed convulsing under his wand? She seemed the type. 

Others filtered into the room, showing their respects to Voldemort before taking their chairs. Lucius arrived late, at least for a man who lived within his lord's chosen headquarters. They made eye contact, and Voldemort brushed through his thoughts. Ah, Narcissa. Tonight she'd delayed her husband with requests of caution and pleas on Draco's behalf, yet that lovely woman managed to show her backbone while maintaining her indirect support of her family's lord. A wise decision, as always. 

The Death Eaters settled quietly in their seats, whispering to one another as they waited for the meeting to begin. As was often the case, Severus Snape's appearance led to immediate silence. No one trusted the spy, so they watched his every move for betrayal. Maybe one day he'd slip up just enough to fall prey to their curse-happy wands. 

"You are late, Severus. I assume you have the information I requested?" 

"Yes, my lord." The man murmured with a polite bow, then took his seat next to Hermione. He made no move to acknowledge the girl. "I have prepared a report containing all of the information I could locate on the situation in question."

Voldemort acquiesced. "You will present your findings after we are adjourned."

* * *

If the world could be conquered with simple violence and intimidation, the Dark Lord would gladly rule all. Meetings were the bane of his existence, the reports from his various foot soldiers a necessary evil if he wanted to remain in charge of his own campaign. 

Rabastan continued his recital of their efforts to collect key politicians for a bit of reeducation. "We managed to locate and obtain Broderick Bode from the Unspeakables, in order to gain access to the artifacts stolen during recent raids held by Moody's Aurors. We're still working on getting a man inside the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Yaxley got ahold of Thicknesse last week, so we'll be able to remedy that problem soon."

"And you've managed your assignments without resistance?" Voldemort's brow arched as he listened to the explanation. 

"There has been no trouble, my lord. The public has been relatively silent, and the Order has folded without their leader." Rabastan preened, looking quite proud of himself. 

Voldemort contemplated the wizard, hearing the half-truth in his words. Did he think withholding news of his failings would make them unexist? This, however, might be the perfect opportunity to test a theory. 

**::Hermione.::** The witch blanched as his fingers brushed her throat, drawing her gaze to meet his own. **::Can you scent the air, like Nagini?::**

She grimaced, but her tongue immediately tested the air. **::I... yes, I think so.::** Her nose wrinkled at whatever smells filled the room.

Intrigued, Voldemort leaned over and hissed into her ear. **::What do you taste?::**

He watched with intense interest as Hermione's eyes glowed amber, her tongue flicking out once more. They drifted shut as she examined whatever she sensed. **::Fear. Anxiety. Anger. Lust. Deceit.::**

"Rabastan, are you sure there's nothing important missing from your report?" 

All eyes fell on the Lestrange brother, those nearest to him backing away as inconspicuously as possible. The oaf swallowed, hard. "My lord?"

" _Crucio!_ " 

As the fool fell to the ground, the Dark Lord stared hard into his eyes. Tearing through his mind, Voldemort found what Rabastan had thought to hide. Lifting the curse, he glared down at the man. "You seemed to have forgotten about a near-miss with half a dozen Order members, something I'm sure you realize would be important news to me. Their efforts to steal your target list seem particularly troublesome."

"M-my lord, I-"

" _Crucio!_ " Ignoring Lestrange as he bucked and convulsed under the curse, Voldemort addressed the rest of the room with cold fury and contempt. "Do not think to lie to me, even by omission. Your place in my Inner Circle will not protect you from my wrath." He released Rabastan and decided enough was enough. "Get out! You are dismissed!"

Chairs scraped as they all scurried to obey. Rodolphus dragged his brother to his feet and out of the room before anger could make their lord lash out again. In moments, only Hermione and Severus remained. 

Without a word, they retired to his study for Snape's report.

* * *

Voldemort sent Hermione to a chair by the fire with a dismissive wave, guiding Severus to his desk. He steepled his fingers and waited. Thankfully, the other man took the hint. 

"I've managed to gain some insight on Miss Granger's alteration. Her friend Ginny Weasley still attends Hogwarts, so I perused her thoughts and found enough information to point me to these." He placed a sheaf of paper on the desk, a picture shifting in the light. "She seems to have used some form of transfiguration potion, including aspects of the Naga in its creation. They are a powerful species, but the last known tribes escaped into the deep ocean ages ago. I can only imagine whatever ingredients she obtained were less than ideal. Unfortunately, her notes were coded; no one in the Order has been able to decipher them, much to their frustration."

Glancing at the notes Severus had provided, Voldemort skimmed the key points. "Based on this, I imagine she intended to take on the parseltongue ability from their serpentine ancestry. Did she think it'd just wear off eventually?"

"While I loathe to admit it, she isn't one to dive in head first, not without a plan." 

"Not even to help Harry Potter?"

Severus shrugged, his action giving nothing away. "Perhaps she made an impulsive mistake. Regardless, the Order has no idea where she is or how to return her to normal."

"Very well," he responded. "Return to Hogwarts, but keep an eye on those known to sympathize with the Order. I wish to remain ahead of any plans they may concoct on her behalf."

"Yes, my lord." Dismissed, Severus gave a short bow and left.

* * *

A good puzzle always improved his mood. Voldemort skimmed his fingers along the books of his private collection before plucking a thin volume from the shelf. It was a unique journal, one he'd taken in his early days from the Chamber of Secrets. Curiosity made him take the seat across from Hermione, startling her from wherever her thoughts had taken her. 

**::Read this.::** He flipped to a random section of the text before holding it out to her. 

She frowned and opened her mouth as if to argue, but her eyes widened as she looked down at the page. Her fingers shook as they brushed over the faded ink. **::I can... but how?::**

Pleased, he held up a finger to still her questions. " _Accio_ Narcissa's wand." The confiscated wand flew from its drawer to his waiting hand. Privately excited by the possibilities, he held out the wand to the girl. **::Take this.::**

Cautiously, Hermione accepted the foreign wand. **::I can't cast?::** Her statement came out more of a question. After all, she couldn't read anything until moments ago. 

With a smirk, he held up his own wand. **::Watch my movements, and repeat this incantation. _HssssSsshhthSssaa!_ ::** Drawing a swirl in the air, his spell created a shadow that immediately smothered the nearest candle. 

Hermione concentrated, then flicked the borrowed wand. **:: _HssssSsshhthSssaa?_ ::** A weak shadow manifested, but its attack on a nearby candle merely caused the flame to grow smaller. Still, it verified his hypothesis. She had turned herself into a true parseltongue, even more so than Harry Potter and his borrowed ability. 

Holding out his hand, Voldemort was pleasantly surprised to have Narcissa's wand returned without him having to ask. Not only did Hermione have power and skill, but she thirsted for knowledge. In that, like recognized like. He remembered the same hunger to learn, a desire that never truly faded. She also seemed to understand when to bow to greater power for her own good. Some Death Eaters still forgot their place, yet this witch held so much promise. 

The idea of luring this girl to his side suddenly seemed less impossible than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on the parseltongue spell "HsssSsshhthSssaa": I decided, randomly, that some spells created by parseltongue speakers would probably have no translation. I won't be using a ton, because they're annoying gibberish for you English speakers.


	13. Chapter 13

Wow. Hermione handed the wand back to Voldemort in a daze. The magic she'd cast felt... amazing. She could only assume Professor Snape had provided some kind of information on her current state; why else would she be handed a book she could suddenly read? 

Her fingers danced over the thin book they'd discarded to the coffee table. A familiar yearning filled her, the desire to read and learn whatever was hidden in those pages. The Dark Lord's quiet murmur interrupted her thoughts. 

**::That journal belonged to Comtesse Nicole de Lancret, a parseltongue from the time of Myrddin Emrys. She wasn't well known, but her natterings are one of the few sources of parselmagic in writing.::**

Hermione turned over the names in her head, thinking back to her studies for the History of Magic. **::Myrddin Emrys? You mean... Merlin?::**

**::Yes,::** he replied as if surprised. 

His cool indifference returned as a house elf popped into the room. They spoke for a moment, and Hermione let her mind drift to the journal. Maybe he'd let her borrow it? Wait, this was the Dark Lord. He'd lend her a book just as quickly as he'd hug Dumbledore, surely. Which is to say, never. 

**::Take it.::** Voldemort's command made her jump, but he didn't give her time to respond before marching to the door. He paused without looking back, his words sending a tingle through her Mark. **::Go to your rooms and remain there until I return.::**

Hermione immediately grabbed the book and bowed to him, touching her neck and allowing the spin of apparation take her away.

* * *

Ziggy had left her a cup of tea and scones before taking off to do whatever elf chores he had at night. Hermione hardly noticed, her nose stuck in the journal of Comtesse de Lancret. The woman was fascinating, if a bit gossipy about her supposed friends. Her entries ranged from a ball held by... Moneceros Black? 

The name made her sit up, the description of the man tickling something in the back of her mind. The potion! She knew she'd dug it up out of someone's journals and notes, but the name of Sirius's ancestor had escaped her in the chaos of Grimmauld. Chewing on her lip, Hermione wondered if mentioning this detail would be a good thing. 

Voldemort seemed intrigued by her predicament. Would he try to turn her back, to protect his secrets? Would he try to turn others over, to create an army of parseltongues? Would he get bored with her and put an end to this strange captivity? 

With a shudder, she closed the journal and laid it on the nightstand before plopping back onto the bed. Her mind floated to her friends, wondering if they knew she was still alive. Had Professor Snape spoken with anyone in the Order? She couldn't imagine he'd done so, but who knew. The man tangled himself in loyalties like spider silk; she wouldn't be surprised if he didn't know his own loyalties truly lied. 

Feeling restless, Hermione climb from the bed and tiptoed to the window. It was spelled to show the scenery outdoors, she supposed; who knew just where her chambers sat within the spralling manor? The darkness seemed almost alive, though the clouds and lack of moonlight made it nearly impenetrable. She hugged herself, wishing for... well, something. Anything.

Yawning, she turned back to her bed. Maybe her dreams would be less intense tonight? She nearly tripped as her Mark sizzled with energy, making her hiss in pained surprise. Hermione coughed as she rushed to touch fingers to neck, squeezing her eyes shut against nausea. Her eyes flew open when she landed, and she gasped at the sight. 

Voldemort slid under the surface of his bath as he lost consciousness. Instinct made her dive for his arms, tugging him back above the surface. She climbed into the oversized tub, having to use herself to prop him up enough to remain out of the water. Merlin, he was heavy! Gripping at his slick skin, she called out in a panic. **::Nagini! Please, come quick!::**

Her fingers checked his pulse, finding it racing but present. His breathing remained shallow and quick, as if he were injured. She tried to check him over for wounds, but she couldn't do much while working to keep him from submerging again. With no response from the snake, she forced herself to stop panicking and think. 

Hermione almost smacked herself for being so stupid! She jerked her whistle out from her soaked pajamas and blew a shrill note into the air. Ziggy popped in, saw her in the tub with the Dark Lord, and squeaked as he popped away again. 

Seriously?

She blew again, hoping the house elf wouldn't ignore her. After a short pause, he reappeared with his back to the tub. The buzzing noise was probably him asking what they needed. She splashed at him, making Ziggy turned to really look at the tub. Gesturing to Voldemort, she motioned and pointed until her message got across. Ziggy's eyes widened, but he immediately levitated his Master out of the bath and into the adjoining bedroom. 

Hermione scrambled after them, her clothes dripping across the rugs in her haste. As the house elf wrung his hands, he glanced between Hermione and Voldemort repeatedly. Did he think she'd attacked him? As if she could! 

Another game of charades convinced Ziggy to dry them both, and he retrieved a set of potions. She eyed the vials while the elf tucked his Master into bed, propping him up against a mound of pillows; they seemed to be healing and strengthening brews, though she couldn't exactly tell what kind. A stool appeared next to the bed, and Ziggy signaled for her to have a seat. Bemused, she did. 

A new fire stoked in the hearth and a warming charm cast across the bed, Ziggy left her to watch over his resting form. His brow furrowed as he writhed in pain, sweat beading across his face. Hermione took a washcloth and dabbed at his forehead, wishing there were more she could do. Shouldn't they get Lucius, or Snape? Someone should look him over and make sure he was okay, after all. She was no mediwizard.

Wait.

Did she just save Voldemort from drowning in his own tub?

Her breath caught in her throat. That's exactly what she'd done, at least out of instinct. What was she supposed to do, just let him drown while she watched? She grimaced as a voice that sounded remarkably like Ron shouted in her mind. _Of course you should've let him drown! Bloody hell! He's the Dark Lord!_

Hermione ignored the angry inner voice and checked Voldemort's pulse again. His breathing settled into something less erratic, though still strained. His skin felt clammy and feverish, but she'd been running cold since taking the parseltongue potion. It had to be the Naga bit, being reptilian and presumably cold-blooded. Then again, maybe it was just the stress of being a captive that made her own skin cool to the touch. 

She eyed the potions Ziggy had left again. Did the house elf know what was wrong? Did Voldemort regularly collapse into a heap? She doubted it, but Harry had reacted like that to visions from the man before. Maybe it went both ways? If so, she could only hope Harry was okay. 

The first potion smelled like loamy moss and onions. She wrinkled her nose and leaned over Voldemort to pour the liquid carefully down his throat. Her fingers rubbed her neck, urging him to swallow. The second potion smelled better, a sweet mix of lavender and lemon. He swallowed it instinctively and released a pained groan. 

As she popped the cork on the third potion, the bitter scent of horseradish and dandelion assaulted her. Hermione cringed, but she could only assume Ziggy knew what he was doing. She moved to tip the concoction down Voldemort's throat, but a hand quickly gripped her wrist before she could pressed it to his lips. 

Red eyes stabbed into her, diving deeply into her mind before she could blink. She made no effort to block the invasion, allowing the Dark Lord to dragged through her thoughts at will. She watched her accidental rescue and Ziggy's assistance flash by. Apparently reassured, Voldemort released her wrist and closed his eyes. 

She poured the last potion into his mouth and set the vial back on his nightstand. His breath fell into an even in-and-out she associated with sleep. With a weary sigh, she leaned against the bed and let her mind drift.


	14. Chapter 14

_Flames blazed over everything, twisting and roaring out of control. His eyes darted down to the others trapped in the chaos, and he dipped his broom automatically. Fingers gripped wrist as he jerked the Malfoy boy up to safety..._

_...his flesh seared, a high-pitched shriek escaping from deep within his soul. He melted in the fiendfyre, every piece of him exposed to the agony. His shell cracked open, spilling its long-protected contents into the aether. He blinked out of the charred wreckage of his hiding place and soared through the skies toward redemption..._

_Everything blurred. The world was an ocean, and he couldn't seem to swim to the surface. His heart raced in the face of mortality taking another step in his direction. Hands clenched hard, digging him from the depths into air and light and life once again..._

_...and it all tasted of earth, and spring, and the bite of bitter truth. He looked into amber orbs, seeing compassion and worry and strength. He saw safety, and he let it embrace him in the growing darkness..._

* * *

Voldemort struggled to open his eyes against the strong urge to return to sleep. His body ached. Had someone dared to _Crucio_ him as he slept? He twitched his fingers, curling and uncurling the stiff joints as he tried to remember. 

Had he gone out on a raid? No. He'd been talking to the vampire broods for assistance. He couldn't remember taking one of the creatures to bed; he knew better, knew that their hunger could only leave him weak. And he absolutely despised being weak. 

Mentally, his focus skimmed over his body. He could feel the sheets of his bed against his skin. If he weren't so exhausted, he'd raise a brow at his own nudity. Normally he slept fully clothed, preferring preparedness to comfort. 

What the hell had he done last night?

Running a hand over his face to brush hair out of his eyes, he squinted into the pale morning light. His canopy was a relief, showing him that he'd at least gone to bed in his own well-warded quarters. He should call a house elf and acquire a potion to ease his strange aches and fuzzy thoughts. 

His hand stilled, fingers clenching on hair. Hair? Giving it an experimental tug, he realized it was firmly attached to his head. Why the hell did he have hair again?

The confusing, disjointed dreams of the night brushed across the edge of his mind. An ache in his chest became noticeable as he put together the clues. The fiendfyre. The pain. The escape. Grunting at the soreness of his limbs, Voldemort pushed himself up to leave the bed. His fingers brushed something warm and bushy. 

His eyes flew to the head resting against his bed, arms tucked under it like a pillow. The girl remained asleep as he glared, enraged and bewildered in equal measure. How had she bypassed his wards? And why was she sleeping against his bed? Where had she hidden his wand?

Gingerly, he picked his way past her and headed straight for the bathroom. His wand sat on the counter, untouched. Cool water still filled the tub, but much of the floor was soaked as well. A memory. Of sliding under the surface, of slippery hands trying to pull him up. He blinked, frowning as he emptied the water with a flick of his wand. 

Glancing into the bathroom mirror made him freeze in shock. 

He looked... like himself. Well, himself from maybe 1960 or so. Someone could've shoved a Time-Turner into his hands and pushed him into the past. He stared into his fuller, younger face with awe. Disbelieving fingers tugged at the dark hair that covered his head, then brushed at the stubble along his jaw. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had to shave. 

**::My lord?::** Hermione's soft sibilance drew him from his thoughts, and he vaguely recalled her eyes hovering over him as he'd suffered. Her hiss of surprise and the slamming of the bathroom door made him blink in confusion. Then he felt the resulting gust of cool air against his _entire_ body, and he realized why she'd run. 

Voldemort was standing in the middle of his bathroom, stark naked.

* * *

Ziggy had responded to his summons immediately, apologizing repeatedly for something or another while presenting his Master with new clothes. Sliding his final buttons into place a few minutes later, he entered his bedroom fully clothed. Hermione sat primly on the stool near his bed, her body turned slightly away from the bathroom door. Her slightly prudish behavior amused him. 

**::Good morning, pet.::** His voice held a husky note he'd long forgotten. Apparently the girl noticed it too, as she stared at him in response. 

**::Who...?::** Her question stalled as her tongue scented the air, awareness flooding her expression. **::What happened?::**

Voldemort considered his answer. First, she'd give him the missing details of the night. **::You tell me, Hermione. How did you end up in my quarters?::**

Her fingers touched her Mark self-consciously. Ah, that made sense. **::You summoned me to your side. You were... you lost consciousness in the bathroom, and I assisted you to bed. Ziggy gave me potions to dose you with and left?::** Her hesitancy amused him. 

The explanation verified his suspicions. Ziggy had orders in the case of his collapse, an event that could only be caused by one thing. 

Another horcrux had been lost. Fuck. He could feel the trauma to his magical core, the regrettably familiar deficiency from the return of his soul piece. His body felt virile and renewed, but he hated finding himself one step closer to mortality. 

Hermione seemed to sense his frustration. Her voice whispered across the space between them. **::Will you be okay?::**

 **::Merlin, why would you care?::**

Voldemort strode to the bed and plopped down, face buried in his hands out of agitation. He saw the girl flinch at his quick approach, but he ignored her in favor of sulking. The last thing he needed right now was his humanity. His body shook in overwhelming tension, emotions crashing over him as they hadn't done in ages. He tried to clamp down on the rising panic, to soothe his own frantic thoughts. This was ridiculous! A deep breath in, another out. In. And out. 

A soft hand touched his arm. 

His breath stuttered, red eyes flashing to Hermione's. Everything in him screamed for control, for a return to strength, for a reminder of his power. She'd seen him collapse, lose himself in the destruction of his horcrux. She'd seen his weakness, taking charge of his care through the night. 

He'd show her who held the power, who was in charge. 

Grabbing her wrist, Voldemort dragged Hermione from her stool and into his arms. Their lips crashed together as he pulled her close. She gave in immediately, pliant and willing as her hands rested between them. Good. His fingers twisted into her riotous curls as he slanted his mouth over hers, his tongue seeking entry. Again she accepted his advance, opening to him without pause. 

Lust stormed over reason. A groan escaped his throat as he tasted the acrid hint of venom in the sweet honey of her kiss. His blood raced through his veins, his cock stirring for the first time in decades as he continued to caress every crevice of her mouth. He almost didn't notice her stillness, her flat palms resting unmoved against his chest. Almost. 

It took the painful sting of a fang against his tongue to bring him to his senses. With a growl, he shoved the witch to the floor. "Get away from me!"

Hermione's fingers touched her kiss-bruised lips, eyes wide with shock and confusion. He focused on her Mark, triggering the order and feeling a vengeful glee when she raced to press her fingers to it automatically as it tightened. The pop of apparation echoed in the sudden silence of her departure. 

Bloody hell! 

Voldemort shuddered as he fell back into his bed, staggered by the ravenous desire racing through his entire being. Gasping, his fingers trembled as he undid his trousers and palmed himself. He went up in flames at the first touch, shattering at its intensity.

* * *

Sequestered in his study hours later, the Dark Lord idly listened to Severus as he reported on last night's break-in at Hogwarts by persons unknown. The man was unflappable, he'd give him that. His spy hadn't asked a single question, pausing only for a moment at the altered appearance of his Lord. 

Impressive, really. The rest of his Inner Circle still showed signs of their confusion, shuffling and twitching as they stood before his desk. He'd chosen to bring them here, rather than allowing them the comfort of a dining hall. Or chairs. 

As the blasted report ended, Voldemort waved Severus away. "I'm well aware of this... development. If you weren't needed to keep that place running, I'd punish you for your failure."

"Of course, my lord."

Sniveling git.

He watched dispassionately as his Death Eaters cautiously darted glances his way. It made him want to roll his eyes in exasperation, but he resisted. They needed an answer to their unvoiced questions, but he'd be damned if they'd ever know the truth. "As you can clearly see, I've managed to renew my body and restore some of the vigor of youth to my physical form. I will summon a full meeting in a few days time, to ensure no one mistakes me for anyone but the Dark Lord. Lucius, you will make arrangements for a full contingent. The vampires also hinted at a second talk to negotiate their terms for our alliance."

Lucius nodded immediately. "I will prepare for both accounts, my lord. Will the vampires require disposable refreshments?"

"They can settle for the willing," he replied with a frown. "I'd like to avoid drawing too much attention to their presence, at least until their allegiance is guaranteed." Checking the time, Voldemort grinned to himself. "You're dismissed until the meeting this weekend."

As his men departed, he decided a visit to his little pet was overdue. Once he'd calmed down, Voldemort had admitted to himself that the return of his libido wasn't all bad. Perhaps Hermione would cooperate with his plans to seduce her to the dark side, one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE:  
> [A] I've skipped the break-in at Gringotts and the destruction of the Hufflepuff cup. It's still tucked away safe, on purpose I assure you. Harry and Ron skipped to the diadem after whatever wisdom randomly told them to go dig it up. 
> 
> [B] Go look up Christian Coulson, the man who played Tom Riddle in the movies. He happens to be 37 now, which is close to the age I've had Voldemort revert to. Yum!


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione stood stock-still in the middle of her bedroom, her fingers drifting back up to her lips. Her mind, normally quick on the uptake in new situations, remained curiously stalled by the unreality of the morning.

The Dark Lord now looked like... no, she wouldn't think about that. 

Voldemort had assaulted her with lips and tongue and... no, she wouldn't think about that either. 

That bastard had acted like she'd attacked him, tossing her on her ass like... no, getting angry wouldn't help. So she wouldn't think about that either. 

At a loss, she stumbled to her bed. The exhaustion of watching over him and sleeping fitfully on a stool were compounded by the whirlwind of her thoughts. She slipped into sleep before her head hit the pillow.

* * *

Her throat pulsed with warmth, making her stir awake slowly. A soft trace of fingertips over her skin made her flush, goosebumps forming in their wake. Hermione shifted closer to the caress instinctively. She sighed as a thumb brushed her lips, bringing to mind the possessive kiss of a gorgeous man with dark hair... 

...and red eyes. Staring into her own as she woke completely. Oh!

With a gasp and a hiss, Hermione jerked away from the questing fingers of the man in question. Voldemort smirked and remained where he was, perched on the edge of her bed as if he belonged there. 

**::You're awake. I was beginning to worry that you might be ill.::** His wrist pressed to her forehead as if checking for a fever. **::Have you eaten?::**

Completely bewildered, she shook her head mutely. He called the house elf, and Ziggy returned moments later with a plate of sandwiches and a pot of tea. He arranged it on the side table before popping out of the room. As Voldemort poured them each a cup of tea, Hermione blinked at the slight slowly. Surely, she'd gone around the bend!

Was the Dark Lord really serving her tea?

The smell of Earl Grey made her mouth water, and she realized that she really hadn't eaten since the night before. Her brow rose as Voldemort tipped a touch of milk into her cup, tossed in two lumps, and gave it a stir before handing it over. When the hell did he learn how she liked her tea?

This was just... weird. 

**::I apologize for my behavior last night.::** His tone seemed sincere, but something felt off about it. **::I found myself... off balance, from the sudden return of something I'd left elsewhere for safekeeping. It seems your friends have continued their efforts to destroy all of the things I hold dear.::**

Hermione sipped at her tea, mind racing. Surely, he didn't mean... **::...your horcruxes?::**

His sneer made more sense than the unexplained kindness he'd shown moments earlier. **::Yes, my pet. I'm sure you and your ilk hoped to weaken me by destroying them. As you can see, though, your efforts have had the opposite effect.::** He spread his arms as if displaying his renewed body as evidence. 

And yet, he was right. They'd assumed that destroying his horcruxes would destroy a piece of the Dark Lord; Dumbledore had all but said so when he gave Harry the impossible quest. If they were wrong... **::Shit, we're screwed!::** Hermione jolted as she realized she'd spoken out loud. 

Voldemort's chuckled gave her shivers. **::Quite.::** His warm hand caressed her shoulder, squeezing possessively when she made to shift out of reach. The humor leeched from his voice as he spoke her name. **::Hermione, you belong to me now. I find my patience for luring you into cooperation has worn thin.::** His other hand slipped into the tangled mess of her hair, holding her still as he lowered his mouth to hover close, his breath tickling her lips. **::How can I persuade you to embrace this?::**

Like prey under the gaze of a predator, she froze as his lips brushed hers. Then instinct kicked in, and she bit down on his invading tongue. Hermione felt her venom inject into the wound before a backhand hurtled her to the mattress. 

Rage made red eyes turn black, and she found herself at the end of Voldemort's wand. **::How dare you!::**

She cringed and waited for the flash of green light that would signal her death. A spell flew in her direction, and then there was only darkness.

* * *

The quiet was the first thing she noticed when Hermione regained consciousness. She bolted for the bathroom, nearly tripping over herself before kneeling at the loo and losing the bit of tea she'd managed to drink. Rinsing her mouth and splashing water on her face did little to settle her nerves.

That said, the sudden presence of Professor Snape almost made her scream. He held his hands up and open, as if demonstrating he meant no harm. After assessing her panting form, he withdrew an oddly oversized vial from his robes. He motioned to his own mouth, then to her. 

She'd bitten Voldemort. Was he dying? Her skin crawled at the idea that she might've killed him. Snape held the vial out to her. When had he crossed to her side? The vial's lid looked like a thick layer of cheesecloth; the entire thing, actually, called to mind a nature documentary she once watched on venomous cobras and the collection of their venom to create antivenin. 

Oh.

Without a word, she accepted the thing and bit down carefully along the edge. When she pulled back, a spoonful of golden syrup had accumulated in the vial. Professor Snape's eyes searched hers for a moment before he took the sample and left. His robes billowed in haunting familiarity. 

Hermione wandered to a seat next to her fireplace, sinking into the soft cushions mindlessly. Once again, she'd been in the perfect position to end the war, to put an end to the Dark Lord and his twisted games. And yet, once again, she'd folded and given aid rather than allowing Voldemort to die. Then again, Bellatrix had survived her bite with the use of a bezoar, so maybe his survival had nothing to do with her cooperation. 

Bloody hell, what was wrong with her?

Logically, she realized murder wasn't really in her nature. Still, extenuating circumstances almost demanded her to take proactive action. So why couldn't she do the right thing? Why did she keep betraying Harry with her weakness?

The slithering of scales nearby told Hermione she had a visitor. **::Nagini?::**

**::You bit Master?::** The snake's words rippled with anger. Her fangs flashed as she hissed her disapproval. 

**::He attacked me first!::**

Nagini paused, forked tongue tasting the air. **::The Clever One lies?::**

Hermione flushed. **::He forced himself on me.::**

**::Master tried to mate? It makes sense. His body needs the Clever One's attentions. He is human.::** The last statement was accompanied with the serpentine equivalent of a shudder. Hermione balked at Nagini's suggestion, but the snake went on unperturbed. **::Master would be a worthy mate. He has much territory and always catches prey.::**

**::Um... I don't think...::** Hermione struggled to come up with the right words to dissuade Nagini. How she'd gone from angry familiar to pushy matchmaker was anyone's guess. **::I appreciate the thought, Nagini, but your master and I are enemies. Not friends. Definitely not mates.::**

The snake scented the air, then coiled herself near the fireplace. Her sleepy hiss sounded smug, if that were possible. **::We'll see...::**

* * *

A well-stoked fire heated the room as Hermione read over the parseltongue journal again. She'd rather read something else, having memorized most of the entries already, but it could be worse. She could be left with only her thoughts as company. 

Ziggy had brought in dinner, tending to minor chores as she ate. From the way he hovered, she wondered if he'd dosed her food with something. When he gave her a satisfied grin as he collected her empty tray, she realized he probably worried about her not eating earlier. House elves could be touchy over the care of their charges, after all. 

Nagini stirred after sunset, her body writhing languidly as she stretched and uncoiled from sleeping on the stone hearth. Her head quirked as if she heard something. **::Master is calling for Nagini.::**

**::Really? I don't hear anything.::**

Scales rubbed across her feet as Nagini nuzzled against her. **::It's okay, Master will come for his Clever One soon.::**

Stunned, Hermione watched the snake escape through one of the vents. If only she'd accidentally turned herself into a snake, rather than some Naga hybrid thing. Maybe she'd be back home. Maybe things would make more sense. 

With a sigh, she returned to Nicole de Lancret's description of a lunar eclipse and its effect on moonflowers.


	16. Chapter 16

The crack of apparation and the sound of glass shattering brought Severus running to the supply closet of his potion lab. He balked at the sight of the Dark Lord wrenching open a jar and shoveling a bezoar into his own throat. The potions master conjured a glass of water immediately, intimately familiar with the unfortunate aftertaste of those little stone-like life savers. He stood in silence as Voldemort downed the water, a hint of blood visible on his lips. 

Voldemort swept his wand across the mess he'd created on the floor, vanishing the mixed ingredients before they could do any harm. He could feel his blood reddening his cheeks with anger, and it annoyed him to realize his natural mask of indifference didn't exist with his currently altered body. Thankfully, Severus kept his thought to himself as they both exited the closet. 

He spoke to his spy after they were seated on one of the brewing benches. "You will brew another permanent antivenin for me, Severus."

"Yes, my lord." Severus hesitated before asking. "Will it be for naga venom?"

"No, it's for Ipsy's cooking." He replied sarcastically, surprising himself and the other man in turn. "Of course it's for Hermione's bite. I'd rather not have to visit you each time she... gets out of hand." 

Let the man think what he would of that ambiguous statement.

Severus bowed his head in agreement. "That is a wise decision, my lord. I will brew the base immediately. It can be ready by this evening, if that's acceptable?"

Waving the man away to get started, Voldemort watched him sweep into the closet for his ingredients. Pleased, the Dark Lord strode from the room with a small bounce in his step.

* * *

The day flew by quickly as Voldemort worked through the plans for Greyback and his ascent among the Packs. They'd assisted him to the top tier of leadership via the kind of help only Death Eaters could provide, but he'd have to earn his place as head Alpha by virtue of his own skill and power. 

Severus had requested access to Hermione that afternoon, presumably to collect her venom for the potion. If he weren't such a coward, Voldemort would worry about the potential for betrayal via poison. However, he'd found that the wizard feared death almost as much as his lord; last time, simply offering him Nagini's antivenin potion had guaranteed a successful brew rather than an attempt on his life. 

Speak of the devil. "Good evening, my lord." Severus entered the study with a vial in hand. "The potion is complete." 

"Yesss," he hissed, enjoying the nearly-invisible shudder his voice caused. "After you?"

The potions master popped open his vial and swallowed half of its contents without hesitation. Voldemort accepted the remainder and sniffed. Pepper. Gillyweed. And honey? His raised brow brought the answer to his unvoiced question. "The girl's venom distilled differently from Nagini's, allowing for the inclusion of iceflower nectar. It improved the blend, as well as the taste."

Intrigued and amused that Severus would bother worrying about the potion's taste, he tipped back the viscous liquid and vanished the empty vial. A ripple of cold sent goosebumps across his flesh, only to be eased immediately by a wave of warmth. The bite of pepper stuck to his tongue, but the potion's effects otherwise dissipated in mere seconds. It felt like Nagini's antivenin, but he could only test that one way. 

Reaching inside his own mind, he gently summoned Nagini. He motioned for Severus to have a seat. "You've done well. I'm tempted to overlook your recent errors."

"That would be... a relief, my lord. I'm still working to regain entry to the Order's safehouse; they've changed the wards and Secret Keeper, as far as I can tell."

"I imagine they distrust you for killing the old man?"

"Indeed." He could almost hear the internal eyeroll. Riling up Severus always proved entertaining.

Nagini's arrival forestalled further discussion. She slithered past the spy, running across his boots on purpose; she enjoyed the smell of stifled fear that Severus emitted when touched by the snake. 

**::Ah, Little One! Where have you been hiding yourself today?::**

She paused in her effort to climb his chair, head tilting in amusement. **::Nagini watched over Master's mate. And napped.::**

Voldemort smirked, ignoring Severus and his obvious discomfort at their hissed conversation. **::My mate, huh?::**

**::Master needs to practice his mating rituals.::** A flash of fangs accompanied her words. **::The Clever One may not be fully human, but she requires the same handling. Pushing her into a mating ball will not work. She will probably continue biting Master if pushed.::**

Her matter of fact statements made his smirk blossom into a genuine smile. Leave it to his familiar to give the Dark Lord a lecture on the art of seduction. A soft cough drew his attention back to Severus. "My lord, did you wish to test the antivenin before my return to Hogwarts?"

The man must really hate listening to parseltongue, to actively seek to be bitten by a venomous creature. "Very well." 

He turned his focus inward to Hermione's Mark, calling her forth. To his amusement, she arrived immediately between his desk and chair as directed; she must've been waiting for a summons all day, hand hovering over her Mark in preparation for his call. The witch stood before him, eyes on the floor and hands clasped in the folds of her robes. 

**::Hermione.::** She twitched as he purred her name, meeting his gaze with a look of anxiety. **::I require your assistance, pet.::**

He rose, causing the girl to back herself into the edge of his desk. **::W-what can I do?::**

Voldemort lifted a hand to her chin, caressing her jaw and enjoying the flush of her skin at his touch. **::Severus has brewed me a potion to remove the threat of your venom. As a gift, I've allowed him to be dosed with the same potion.::**

**:...and you need me to bite him?::**

He nodded, glanced over her shoulder to the wizard in question. Severus had averted his eyes, surely confused by his approach to Hermione. Not that it mattered. He returned his attention to his pet. **::I believe he's told the truth, but it's only prudent to allow him the honor of proving himself.::**

**::Of course.::** Her quiet reply was almost sardonic. Before he could decide whether or not she meant anything by it, Hermione turned in the small space between them and held out a hand over the desk. 

Narrowing his eyes, Voldemort let it go. "Severus, if you'd please..."

Severus glanced up and realized their conversation must've been over. He stood and extended his forearm to Hermione, allowing it to rest against her palm. With little preamble, the girl bent and pricked his skin with a quick bite. A sharp intake of breath betrayed the pain she caused, blood trickling from the wound immediately. "A little warning might've been appreciated," he mumbled under his breath while healing the surface wounds. 

Knowing how quickly her venom had begun to work that morning, Voldemort was satisfied that the potion worked. "You may return to your post. Expect to be summoned this weekend; I will need my Inner Circle present for the final gathering with the vampire nation."

"Yes, my lord." The pause in Severus's movement spoke of his wilted chivalry. He clearly sensed his lord's intent toward the witch in his possession. However, self-preservation had always won out for Severus; he collected himself, bowed, and left without further discussion. 

As the door clicked shut, Voldemort cast a silent ward over the room before he allowed himself to reach out and touch Hermione. His fingers danced over her shoulder, causing her to turn toward him once again. The scent of her Naga aspects seemed stronger, as if consuming even a small portion of her venom had sensitized him to her very being. **::Pepper and thunderstorms.::** How odd... and energizing. 

**::Excuse me?::** He leaned into her, his hands on the desk caging her in as he sniffed her neck. Hermione's hands slid up his chest, as if she thought to hold him back. **::What are you...?::**

He hushed her, tongue tasting the skin behind her ear. **::You're delicious, Hermione. I find myself wanting you, and I see no harm in satisfying such a desire.::** He savored her shiver at his words against her scales. 

Time seemed to stand still as their heartbeats thrummed loudly in the silence of the room. Voldemort admired the flutter of her pulse as his lips brushed her skin, aroused by the witch's quivering stillness, as if she were a leashed storm waiting to crash over him. Pulling back far enough to look her in the eye, he asked Hermione the only question that mattered in that moment. 

**::Do you want me?::**


	17. Chapter 17

**::Do you want me?::**

Hermione's stomach flipped as her mind raced for a safe answer. She could see he was serious by the look in his eyes, and his lust made itself known against her stomach. Voldemort's renewed body and natural charisma made the thought of sleeping with him less disturbing, but he was still the Dark Lord. He'd killed people she knew, tortured herself and others. He planned to take over the wizarding world and fought toward that goal with violence and destruction. 

Then again, he _was_ the Dark Lord. Even if she refused, who said he wouldn't take her anyway? She was no shy virgin. Between good ol' muggle erotica and her parents' honest sex education, Hermione had embraced her sexuality with few hang-ups. Victor, Ron, and a couple of Ravenclaw study buddies had all helped her explore the finer points of sex. One thing rang true across the board: a good man often lost his self-control as he grew aroused. 

And Voldemort? He was not a good man. 

He'd seemed off balance lately, ever since he'd collapsed in his bathroom from his horcrux's destruction. It was almost like he lacked his usual control as pieces of his soul, his humanity, returned to him. Maybe giving into his desires now would allow her to gain further freedoms? Willing participation would let her take a bit of control back in her situation, if only by seducing her captor into trusting her.

Realizing she'd taken too long to answer, Hermione dove in feet first with her plan. One of her hands slid up Voldemort's chest and into the hair at the base of his neck, urging his lips to meet hers. He responded immediately to her touch. A groan escaped his lips as she opened to him, her tongue dancing against his sensually. 

The edge of the desk dug into her arse as Voldemort pressed their bodies together. No, she shivered as his hands gripped her hips. She couldn't think of him like that, not as Voldemort. Tom. She'd call him Tom, at least in her mind. 

Forcing her thoughts away from the distraction of reality, she let her free hand glide down his chest until she could palm him fully. He torn his mouth from hers and threw back his head with an unintelligible growl, so she latched her mouth onto the side of his neck and grazed her teeth across the sensitive skin. Voldemort, er, Tom? Tom jolted as if struck by lightning, captivated by her caressing fingers and tongue. 

Fuck it. She had the Dark Lord panting at her touch, coming undone for her. This was power. She could wring her hands over it tomorrow. 

**::The Strange One is coming, Master.::**

The Strange One? Oh, Merlin! Bellatrix? Nagini's sudden announce made Hermione jerk her hands off of Voldemort as if burned. He grabbed her arm, preventing her from escaping. **::Thank you, pet.::** His wand appeared in his hand, flicking at the door. She assumed he had opened his wards or something, since they still stood in his privacy study. 

She'd almost seduced the Dark Lord into taking her across his desk. Well... lovely. Maybe she would've gotten lucky and ended up with an ink print of his latest plans across her arse for her troubles? Hermione nearly snorted out loud at the thought. 

Voldemort turned it attention back to Hermione, his gaze dropping to her lips. **::It seems I have business to attend to...::**

She hummed her agreement, tiptoeing to draw him into another kiss. Fingers dug into her hair, pulling at her curls roughly until she moaned from the mixture of pain and pleasure. She bit his lip in retaliation, caution abandoned in favor of tasting all of him. The coppery undertone of blood only egged him on, and her hands flew to his shoulders as she grew dizzy from it.

A screech broke them apart, Voldemort's wand tossing up a shield almost carelessly as a curse flew their way. Stunned, Hermione twisted to see Bellatrix looking shellshocked by the door. Oh yeah. Oops?

The crazy woman dropped to her knees, prostrating herself immediately. The annoying buzz of her words probably fell along the lines of an apology. Ignoring Bellatrix, Hermione noticed the satchel she'd dropped when she attacked, its contents spilling across the floor. A cube of what looked like hematite. A couple of vials, veritaserum? A golden chalice that looked pretty good for an antique. Was that a wand poking out of the edge there?

A hand on her chin brought her attention back to Voldemort. Had he been talking? She'd gotten used to ignoring non-parseltongue conversation. **::Bellatrix and I will be a while. May I call on you later this evening?::**

Call on her? Oh, right. Hermione dipped her head in agreement. **::Of course, my lord.::** She could taste Bellatrix's confusion and anger in the air, the scent sharpening as her lord lifted Hermione's hand to his lips. Let her think what she will. Their entwined fingers touched Hermione's Mark, sending her back to her quarters with a soft pop.

* * *

Hermione paced before her fireplace, too agitated to sit still. What was she thinking? No, seriously. What the bloody hell was she doing? 

Her fingers touched her lips, but she shook her head. Seducing Voldemort seemed like a smart idea earlier, after he'd cornered her. Now, though? How could she? She couldn't follow through with this idiotic plan! Well, she could. After all, his body wasn't hard on the eyes. Power coiled through him, and it was intense and electrifying to be his sole focus, and Merlin was she thinking about it again?!

One of the vents clicked open, letting Nagini wriggle her way into the room. She paused as she scented the air, approaching Hermione slowly. **::Why is Master with the Strange One?::**

**::What?::** Exasperated with the snake, Hermione glared. **::Your master had stuff to go over with her, I guess.::**

**::Biting the Strange One would've taught her not to interfere in the mating dance.::**

Oh, Merlin! Not Nagini too! **::Look,::** she said as she tugged on her own hair, **::I wasn't, I can't mate with Voldemort!::**

Nagini's head tilted in question. **::The Clever One is wrong. Master has the correct anatomy for mating.::**

**::I noticed.::** Hermione winced at her own honesty. 

**::Master will be a good mate. Nagini will sleep in her special place tonight, to avoid interrupting the mating dance. It is loud.::** With that, the snake slithered back the way she'd come, leaving Hermione alone once again. 

The witch plopped into a chair, clawing at the upholstery in her frustration. Her head ached from overthinking everything, but she couldn't help herself. And how did Nagini know anything about sex? It was loud? Logically, Voldemort must've slept with someone before. He was only human. Mostly. Had he slept with Bellatrix? Oh, gross! 

Frustrated by her own circling thoughts, Hermione marched into the bathroom. Obviously a cold shower was in order. She shucked her robes to the floor and turned the water on quickly. With a deep breath, she forced herself into the chilly blast. Instinct screamed at her for the assault. She ignored it ruthlessly, closing her eyes and leaning against the tiles as she imagined her thoughts rinsing themselves right down the damned drain. 

A strange sort of lethargy stealed over her as the water sloshed over her skin. What was she going to do when Voldemort showed up later? It bothered her to be so anxious, without a real plan to work with. Lists and plans were totally her thing! Hermione never did anything without checking all of the variables first. Well, almost never. She really wanted a Time-Turner to go back and prevent this whole mess. No stupid potions attempted without a remedy pre-brewed as backup. No kidnapping thanks to stepping out of the wards. No kisses shared with a power hungry maniac intent on ruling the world. 

Yeah. That'd be nice.

Hermione slid down the wall as her knees grew weak. Alarmed, she tried to reach for the spigot to turn off the water; her fingers fumbled numbly on the metal, unable to grip hard enough to move it. She panicked as she realized what she'd done. In her frustration, she'd ignored her Naga side and, with it, all of the hints at her cold-blooded nature. As the cold seeped into her bones, she shivered and felt consciousness trying to desert her. 

Fingers rushed to her Mark, a scared hiss echoing into the bathroom. **::Help? Please...::**


	18. Chapter 18

Bellatrix Lestrange must've been a banshee in a past life. It was the only explanation for her screech upon entering the study. Voldemort felt her arrival through his wards, though, so blocking her reckless hex took little effort. His lips barely lifted from Hermione's to cast a shield charm. 

The woman seemed to understand her mistake as soon as he'd moved. Her eyes took in his mussed appearance and possessive hand on Hermione's arm. Then Bellatrix sank to her knees. "My lord! I thought... she is venomous, and I thought she'd bitten you. I didn't, I had no idea she... you... I'm sorry!"

"Enough, Bellatrix." Seeing the spilled proof of her success at her recent assignment to Gringotts, he'd waved off her apologies. She'd ramble on for hours if he let her. The subtle pull of his horcrux soothed something inside of himself. "I see you've collected my artifacts from your vaults."

"Yes! All of them!" She remained prostrated before him, nodding enthusiastically to the floor. 

Shoving his urges back into submission took a moment. Glancing down, he noticed Hermione examining the satchel's visible contents. She was a clever witch; he couldn't help but wonder what she'd make of his things, given the chance to study them. Unfortunately, that would have to wait. "Hermione?" She didn't respond. 

He almost rolled his eyes at himself. Clearly he wasn't quite back to normal after her ardent attentions. He tried again. **::Bellatrix and I will be a while. May I call on you later this evening?::**

Hermione dipped her head in agreement. **::Of course, my lord.::**

Good. He looked forward to exploring the intense chemistry between the two of them. Voldemort drew her hand to his lips, internally smirking as Bellatrix grew tense at the sight. He touched their joined hands to Hermione's Mark, sending her to the safety of her room. 

Taking a moment to center himself, Voldemort rounded his desk and stood before his servant. "Well? Do you plan to kiss my floor all evening?" His robes brushed her head as he strode to an armchair by the fire. 

Bellatrix took the hint and swiftly gathered the mess from the floor before joining him. She placed the items on the coffee table, one by one. Once they were clearly displayed, she sat on the edge of his other chair and eyed him cautiously. "I retrieved all of the treasures you asked us to hide, my lord. The nasty little goblins knew better than to deny me access to the vaults."

"Of course," he murmured as his fingers trailed over a pair of amulets from the wizards of ancient Constantinople. He'd earned them off a hag, as payment for ridding her cottage of a sudden snake infestation they both knew he'd caused. The ability to share knowledge mind-to-mind had been a boon in his early days, allowing him to gather skills his partners hadn't thought to share. "It's been a long time since I've had access to these..." 

Shaking himself from the memory, he tapped on the table and scooped up a vial to toss at Bellatrix. Fumbling to catch it, she held the potion as if it might explode without warning. "Are these still good, my lord?"

"Mostly." He plucked another vial and shook it, then vanished the thing. "That one needs to go to Severus for dosing. He knows why." What good was it to have a potions master if the man couldn't recognize a Lemur Elixir on sight? Surely he'd figure out who needed liquid persuasion to look the other way. 

He smirked to himself as Bellatrix left to find his other minion. The two of them would probably murder one another, if not for his direct order not to harm fellow Death Eaters. Sometimes he wondered if they'd once been paramours; it'd explain the current tension when they entered the same space. 

Alone, Voldemort warded his study before giving into the urge to grab his horcrux. Helga Hufflepuff's Cup. The thing was rumored to bring peace between those who shared a drink from its contents, be they water or wine. He hadn't bothered to attempt using the damned thing before housing a piece of himself within it. 

The golden warmed at his touch, almost pulsing in welcome. What could he do to keep it safe? He had no doubt the Order would've raided Gringotts if any hint of his horcrux whispered across their path. Malfoy Manor was safe enough for now, thanks Lucius and his maintenance of the family blood wards, but his last permanent tie to immortality needed a better hiding place soon. Nagini wouldn't live forever. Neither would he, if someone destroyed the cup. 

Voldemort set it down with a frown. Better not to think of such possibilities. Thoughts held power, he knew that better than most. Believing in his own success, his own power, had brought him this far in his campaign to rule the wizarding world. 

A random shiver went down his spine, like a ghost had run a finger down his back. He paused, listening hard to the silence of the room. Odd. 

He'd just picked up another potion to check when it happened again. Colder, harsher. "What the bloody hell?" He slammed the vial down as his head whipped around. Nothing. If Lucius had failed to mention a deceased relative haunting this wing of the manor, he'd find himself lucky to walk away without joining the haunt.

Rising slowly with his wand at the ready, Voldemort cast a calculating eye around his study. Nothing seemed amiss, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something. Something important. Something powerful. Something oddly familiar.

**_::Help?::_ **

A voice whispered across his mind, freezing him where he stood.

**_::Please...::_ **

The magic of the disembodied call tugged at him. Without a thought, Voldemort followed.

* * *

Cold water pelted Voldemort, quickly soaking his robes as he took in the scene. Was it raining? "Hermione?"

He knelt next to her naked and pale form, searching for wounds or a sign of what had led to her lying unconscious in the rain. Glancing up, he realized they were in her shower. Not rain, then. He shut off the spigot and swept Hermione into his arms. She left a trail of water across the carpets as he strode to the bed. There was no blood, no damage that he could see.

He released a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding.

Hermione's shallow breathing worried him. His wand flicked out a diagnostic charm, but it took him a few moments to figure out what the readings meant. Her temperature fell lower than expected. Probably from the shower. He might've been smug that she'd taken a cold shower after leaving his side, if she hadn't endangered herself so thoroughly. 

"Ziggy?" Voldemort cast drying and warming charms over her before tugging a blanket over her. The house elf wrung his hands as he took in the sight of his charge and his master's master. "Retrieve one of the special healing potions for Nagini. And a pot of tea." 

He didn't bother to check for the elf's compliance. Instead, his hands brushed Hermione's wild hair from her face. **::What were you thinking, pet?::** Noticing his own wet robes as if for the first time, he dragged the heavy fabric from his body and dried his shirt and trousers absently. 

**::Is the Clever One injured?::** The sudden words from his familiar made Voldemort aware of just how out of sorts the witch's near miss had made him. 

**::She's fine, Nagini. Just chilled. Like when you stayed outside hunting last winter.::**

The snake flicked her tongue to taste his words. **::Master will make her better. Nagini is pleased.::**

"I live to serve," he muttered under his breath as Nagini headed to the hearth and curled onto the heated stonework. Ziggy returned, placing a small tea service on the table by the fire. He quickly handed the Dark Lord his requested potion, then moved to stoke the logs until they blazed once again. The house elf grabbed the soggy pile of robes from the floor and left immediately, sensing he was no longer needed.

What would be the best way to reheat his wayward witch? Voldemort decided on moving her to the couch near the fire. It made the most sense, really. And carrying her there wrapped in a blanket, it was sound reason dictated her place in his lap. How else could he administer the potion? He cradled her in his lap, her head lolling against his shoulder. The chill of her skin could be felt through the blanket and his clothes. 

Frowning, he uncorked the serpentine healing potion and coaxed its opening between Hermione's pale lips. Some of the liquid dribbled from her mouth, but he eased most of the dose down her throat with a gentle rub of fingers across her neck. **::Come on, Hermione.::**

The girl stirred, coughing at the thick residue no doubt coating her mouth and throat. He summoned a cup of tea and held it for her steadily. **::Here, drink.::** Her hands wrapped possessively around the heated porcelain. He rubbed her back through the blanket, hoping the friction would help. Her skin grew warmer quickly as the potion took effect.

**::What happened? Why am I... oh!::** Hermione trailed off as she seemed to figured out exactly what must've happened. 

**::I'm not sure whether to be amused or angered that you'd try to take a cold shower. You're quite obviously cold-blooded, Hermione. Surely you've noticed your desire to wear more layers than usual and stay near the fireplace?::**

She yawned, mindlessly snuggling into his lap. **::I... wasn't thinking straight. Sorry.::** Her eyes drifted shut as she slipped into a healing sleep. 

Of course she'd apologize for putting herself in danger. As she should! But why was the witch resting in the arms of the Dark Lord like this was a normal, everyday, acceptable thing? Voldemort huffed to himself, casting a silent _nox_ to darken the room.


	19. Chapter 19

The soft click of metal woke Hermione to the flickering darkness of her room. Nagini's body slid out of sight as the snake left to hunt or sleep or do whatever she did for fun. 

It took a moment for Hermione to figure out why she felt so disoriented. Arms tightened around her body, a small gasp escaping as she remembered. No way. She quickly assessed her situation while fighting down the urge to giggle hysterically. Vol-Tom had stayed? His breath ruffled her hair softly at each exhale. 

How surreal!

The blanket slipped when she started to shift, baring her suddenly to the cool air of her room. She tugged it back up, her movements making Tom shift under her. A surprisingly familiar hardness pressed against her arse. Apparently even Dark Lords had certain physical reactions in their sleep?

Hermione squinted up at Tom's relaxed jaw, thinking. 

She couldn't do it. 

She shouldn't. 

Right?

Annoyed at her own lack of gumption, she took a deep breath and imagined herself a true Gryffindor full of brash courage. Pushing away any further doubts, she circled her hips on Tom's lap slowly. Her lips pressed kisses along his jaw at the same time. She almost smirked as he groaned in his half-sleeping state, his hips thrusting against her in retaliation. 

The blanket made it difficult to maneuver herself into a better position, but Hermione shrugged to herself and continued her silent assault on the man. It was clear the moment he gained full awareness; he stilled for a moment, his hands clenching the blanket. **::Hermione?::**

She hummed against his neck, tongue massaging the pulsepoint as she took in the scent of his arousal. Her non-answer resulted in her suddenly being deposited on the floor as Voldemort stood. She hissed in pain. **::Ow! What the hell?::**

Red eyes glowered down at her, hands balled into fists. A muscle jumped in his jaw as if he were holding himself in control. Barely. 

All or nothing, she thought to herself.

Hermione locked gazes with Tom as she unwrapped the blanket from her body and rose from the floor to stand naked before him. She could almost feel the catch of his breath in her own lungs. Empowered by the small sign of desire, she stepped into his personal space and pressed a palm against his chest. He sank stiffly back onto the couch, watching her like a hawk. 

Letting instinct take control, she straddled his lap and captured his mouth with hers immediately. Warm fingers gripped her hips as grinded against him. His pants scratched against her sensitive skin, but the straining cock was wonderfully hot through the fabric. When she pulled back to breathe, Tom's mouth drifting along her collarbone and down to her breasts. He suckled her nipple, making her moan and arch into his touch. **::Please...::**

Taking charge, one of his hands moved between them to pressed against her heat. **::You're so wet,::** he hissed against her breast. His fingers slid into her, teasing her as his mouth returned to hers. 

**::Clothing. Off.::** Hermione's fingers dug into his shirt, ready to rend the thing in two if necessary. The tingle of magic and sudden disappearance of all fabric between their bodies made them both gasp. Wandless magic. Fuck, that was hot. 

Their tongues battled as hands roamed and rubbed and clawed at each other. Her fingers dug into his shoulders when Tom's hands lifted her to align them, driving her down onto his cock in one hard thrust. He groaned and buried his face in her neck to catch his breath. There'd be none of that, though. Hermione swiveled her hips, refusing to hold still and let him regain control. 

**::Sweet Circe!::** He exclaimed as she began to ride him. His hips met her thrust for thrust, making them both see stars. Tom's teeth latched onto her neck as he pulsed inside of her, groaning as his orgasm struck. Her own release tumbled after his, Hermione's body milking him until they were both spent. 

Exhausted, they sat there for a few minutes without moving or speaking. Tom kissed the violent mark he'd left on her neck, resting his sweaty forehead against her as he caught his breath. Hermione found her fingers tangling themselves in his hair, tracing circles on his scalp. 

She gasped when Tom rose and walked to the bed, his hands holding her arse to keep them connected as he moved. How was he still hard? Each step sent delicious shivers through her body. He laid her down, draping his own body over hers without separating them for a minute. He bent down, his breath whispering across her ear. **::We're not done yet, my pet.::**

And then he showed her just how much stamina a Dark Lord could possess.

* * *

The sound of shattering glass made Hermione bolt out of bed, her hand reflexively seeking a wand she didn't have. Her mind struggled to find its source as she glanced around her room. Nothing. Not even the wizard who'd kept her up half the morning. 

Worried and cautious, she dug out clothes and tugged them on before peeking out of her rooms. More crashing and banging from down the hall made her frown. It came from Voldemort's study. Who would dare...?

The door hung from its hinges when she approached, partially obliterated by someone's angry magic. Glass crunched underfoot, making her wince as the shards pressed precariously against her socks. She picked her way over the mess and stilled as her eyes took in the scene. 

Furniture laid in ruined pieces, half of his desk impaling a wall across from where it once sat. Shredded books and parchment littered the floor as well; her heart gave a small twinge for the lost of what were surely ancient texts. The fireplace burned high and bright, soot marks licking up the stone around the hearth as the fire raged with too much uncontrolled heat. 

The Dark Lord himself stood unmoving in the eye of the destruction. 

Voldemort practically pulsed in his fury. His wand raised toward her, and Hermione's heart jumped into her throat. **::Where is it?::**

His clipped words confused her. **::I don't know what you're talking about, my lord.::**

Her cautious words only brought him striding to her side, his wand digging into her neck as he stared her down. **::Let me in.::**

Without hesitation, she met his gaze and let him dive into her thoughts. It hurt, badly. Images raced by quickly, reliving the past 24 hours in double time. When he tore himself from Hermione's mind, she collapsed to her knees and pressed a hand over her mouth to hold in a cry of pain. 

Well, lovely. He was all Dark Lord today, it seemed. 

Watching him pace away, Hermione gritted her teeth and stood. **::What's happened?::**

**::Apparently one of my Inner Circle took it upon themselves to relieve me of an item while I was indisposed.::** Voldemort turned back to her, expression clouded with anger and confusion. 

Remembering the pile of goodies Bellatrix had brought in the night before, Hermione's mind quickly caught on. **::Someone stole a horcrux?::**

**::Yesss!::** Hissing, he threw an explosive hex at the half-destroyed bookshelves. Splinters flew everywhere, making her duck and cover her face. 

Internally pleased, she responded quietly once the dust settled. **::So... why not call in your Circle and find the culprit? Tear through their minds, I'm sure your legilimency is stronger than any of their shields, especially with your current... mood.::**

His eyes flared with surprise. Anger must've made him forget how easily he could dig up the truth. He held out his hand to Hermione, a malicious grin curling his lips. **::Let's find out traitor.::**

Hand in hand, they disapparated with a crack.

* * *

Hermione's stomach twisted as she sat beside the Dark Lord. He'd called his Inner Circle for a meeting the minute they'd landed in his thrown room. If Lucius's expression were anything to go by, the call had been painfully urgent. Others stumbled into the room within minutes, muttering to each other in quiet tones. 

Snape was missing. She had a sinking suspicion that his absence had little to do with Hogwarts business. 

Voldemort didn't bother with explanations or speeches. He drew Lucius forward and immediately ripped through his mind, driving the man to his knees in agony. A curt order to leave had the pale man scrambling to his feet and rushing from the room with as much dignity as he could muster. Rabastan reacted similarly, making Hermione cringe in sympathy. Her head still hurt from the invasion of her thoughts, and she imagined Voldemort was much angrier to know one of his closest Death Eaters had to be his betrayer. Each person was banished from the room when he finished, and no one bothered to linger. The reason for his sudden assault on their mental privacy was obvious. 

Someone fucked up. Big time. 

As Bellatrix scampered out of the room panting, Hermione's suspicions were confirmed. The only missing person was Severus Snape. For his sake, she hoped he'd seek out the Order for assistance. Otherwise, he was as good as dead.


	20. Chapter 20

Severus had betrayed him. 

It was so obvious now. The way the man always kept himself just outside of the comings and goings of the Death Eaters. The way he'd managed to avoid any serious assignments by insinuating himself as a spy against Dumbledore and the Order. The way he'd never been caught in a lie. 

Until now. 

Voldemort cast another tracking spell on Snape's Mark, but it was no use. The only thing that could block his tracker was a location under a _Fidelius_ charm, meaning he'd run straight to the Order with his thievery. The bastard. 

Vanishing the useless map, he summoned a house elf. The thing cowered before him silently; rumor of his furious inquisition of Death Eaters made all of the elves jumpy. He remained seated, staring at the wall mindlessly. "Bring lunch for two." 

Food arranged and elf dismissed, he summoned Hermione with a focused thought of her Mark. She'd been... helpful. After he'd determined Severus as missing, she'd asked to inspect his potions stores; her ability to sniff out the contents of each vial had meant she could ensure each potion was exactly as labeled. To think, the potions master could've planned to poison half of the Death Eaters with no one the wiser. 

Hermione popped into existence before him, several vials in her hands. She handed them over slowly, her face pensive. **::These are... I remembered the potions you took that night. When you lost your horcrux and... well, I'm afraid you'll need these again. Probably soon.::**

Anger flared. But of course she was right. **::Thank you, pet.::** He floated them to his recently repaired desk, wanting them nearby as he waited for the other shoe to drop. Hours had passed since he'd interrogated his men. 

What were they waiting for?

A soft hand brushed his cheek, drawing him from his brooding contemplations. **::There's nothing I can do?::**

Voldemort considered her question seriously. She couldn't give him the things he wanted most, such as Severus Snape's head on a spike or the return of his stolen horcrux. But she could serve a purpose, if she were truly willing. She'd seemed willing enough last night. 

He captured her hand, idly fingers running over her palm. **::Would you protect me, Hermione?::**

**::Of course.::** Her answer was immediate and clear. **::Tell me how.::** A subtle brush of her mind showed she was serious. 

Motioning for her to sit across from him, Voldemort _Accio'd_ her wand from its warded hiding place and handed it over. She accepted it gingerly, her fingers caressing the wood like she couldn't believe it was real. He cleared it throat to regain her attention. **::Parselmagic is complicated because of its nature. It's instinctive and intuitive, the opposite of traditional wizarding magic. Spells aren't translatable due to their basis in snake senses.::**

Hermione nodded, her brow furrowed in thought. **::That makes sense, in a way. The spell you taught me, the one that put out the light? What did it come from?::**

**:: _HsssSsshhthSssaa_ is my own parseltongue word for the way a cave's darkness eats the light that tries to enter its depths, especially once you round a corner or two. Most spells have to be spoken of in the description of a snake's point of view. I find they're easier that way, and Nagini spent years helping me figure out the best way to phrase myself.::**

**::How do you, I don't know... come up with a word that's all snake, with no translation?::**

He smirked, pleased to see her following the same train of logic he'd experienced all those years ago. **::It takes a relaxing of the mind, a willingness to unfocus and embrace the inherent wildness of the language. Close your eyes.::**

She obeyed immediately, relaxing into her chair. Voldemort rose and circled her chair, leaning to speak quietly into her ear. **::Now relax. Breathe in... breathe out. Feel your connection to parseltongue, the way it buzzes across the mind and tongue. Good, good.::** He paused, letting her loosen into the sensation. **::Let's try summoning an item to your side. Imagine yourself a snake. How would you describe _Accio_ in Nagini's perspective?::**

Exhaling slowly, Hermione murmured her thoughts aloud. **::It's like looking into the eyes of prey, willing them to come closer so you can strike. Or the way you feel pulled to follow the scent of prey when you're hungry and they're clearly weak and alone and exposed and...::**

**::There! Keep that imagery, and open your eyes.::** As she did so, he pointed to one of the spoons on the table with their lunch. **::Now comes the hard part. Point your wand at that spoon, and let your mouth speak that feeling into being.::**

Wand lifting to point at the food tray, Hermione took a deep breath and hissed. Her wand tip lit up, the pale glow his only warning before the spoon sailed at them full speed. Voldemort caught it, barely, before it could thunk her right in the forehead. **::Oh! That was amazing!::**

Transfiguring the spoon into a knife, he drew it across his wrist quickly. She gasped as his blood dripped onto her lap. **::Yes, very good. Now heal me.::**

Slightly panicked, Hermione slammed her eyes closed. He listened to her breathing, to the way she almost thought loud enough to be heard without legilimency. Her wand pressed against his wound, a sibilant whisper causing it to pulse and knit closed quickly. Impressive. The minute it sealed itself, she jabbed her finger into his ribs. **::Don't do that! What if I'd gotten it wrong?::**

**::You didn't.::** Her indignant expression made him shrug before returning to his own seat. **::I could heal that wound in seconds, wandlessly. I wanted to show you that you could use parselmagic instinctively. You're a thinker, but sometimes parselmagic requires less thinking and more doing.::**

Hermione sat there, her gaze hovering somewhere across the room. She accepted a cup of tea without really paying any attention, leaving Voldemort to his own thoughts. Amused with her dazed reaction to the lesson so far, he scooped up one of the letters he'd been trying to go over earlier. His mood had improved; maybe now he could focus on business.

* * *

The clink of a teacup brought Voldemort's attention back to his companion. Hermione had a strange twinkle in her eye as she marched across the room to his bookcase. The house elves had reconstructed as many of his books as possible earlier, returning them to the newly refurbished shelves. 

Her fingers traced over the spines, plucking one of the thicker tomes out and flipping over a few pages. He watched as she brought it back to their seating area, placing the open book in front of her chair before sitting down again. It was a treatise on the rise and fall of dragon populations across Eurasia, a dry read but one with promising details on the potential to tame said creatures. Curious, Voldemort folded his correspondence and waited. 

Not one to disappoint, Hermione pointed her wand at her temple and hissed. Nothing happened. She didn't seem discouraged, wrinkling her nose and concentrating once again. Her next bout of parseltongue made her wand flicker, but that was it. On the third try, her spell hummed from her lips and created a cloud of misty yellow light around her head. It sank into her eyes when she opened them, and she blinked rapidly as if clearing her vision. 

She set down her wand and rubbed damp hands on her knees before reaching for the book. Hermione's shriek of success made Voldemort cringe. **::It worked! Merlin, it worked!::** She shoved the book under his nose, pointing to a random paragraph on the page. **::However, it must be noted that the Siberian Skylowes are a rare breed. Their breeding grounds range from the coasts of Bolshevik Island to the Hidden Isles of the Laptev Sea. The Skylowes' diminutive stature has allowed them to remain unexposed to muggle interaction or wizarding intervention.::**

Bloody hell! **::You can read Russian?::**

**::Russian?::** She eyed the text, grinning. **::Well, no, but I guess I was unspecific enough to make the spell work. Can you help me find something in English?::**

Intrigued more than he cared to admit, Voldemort flipped through his post and found a harmless letter from Annabelle Camarilla's brood. The vampress intended to return for a follow-up visit during contract creation. Hermione took the letter and smiled brightly as she read it. Her spell must've been a doozy, to translate the languages into parseltongue for her mind to comprehend. Translation spells in general took a certain finesse; one with parselmagic was an impressive feat. **::How did you come up with that?::**

His tone must've held a bit of his surprise and pleasure at her success. The witch blushed and leaned against the arm of his chair. **::It was just... well... parseltongue lets us talk to any snake species, right? But I was thinking about how a snake from the dessert and a sea snake were about as dissimilar as a wizard from England and a witch from Japan. So parseltongue has to be a common language, one that crosses the snake version of cultural barriers? And if that's the case, then there should be a way to speak or at least understand a human version of parseltongue, a common language that could cross our own regional barriers and... I'm rambling. Sorry.::** She tucked a few unruly strands of hair behind her ear shyly. 

Her brilliance made his pulse race. He made to reach for her... 

...and screamed as pain tore through his skull.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _::telepathy, thoughts pushed into someone's mind using legilimency::_

Watching Tom seize, struck by the demise of his horcrux, Hermione forgot to breathe. Ever the analytical one, she noted the flash of light he emitted as he screamed. Her heart plummeted as she waited for the agonizing attack to stop. Wait! 

Concentrating, she flicked her wand and hissed something about being cozy and sleepy in the noonday sun on a nice, flat rock. The idea worked well enough, it seemed. Tom stopped thrashing as he fell into a magical sleep. She tried to levitate him, but she couldn't come up with an image or feeling that made sense. Giving up, she summoned his potions and worked to get them dosed into the sleeping man. 

He needed a bed. Hermione fingered the house elf whistle hanging around her neck and frowned. Ziggy might cooperate, but she wasn't sure he'd realize how important it was to get Tom to his chambers without being seen. If only she could... 

...speak a common tongue? Smacking herself in the head for not thinking of it in the first place, Hermione calmed herself and focused on the concept she'd used to make herself about to read again. She altered the idea, thinking on the sounds of languages themselves rather than just communication signals like writing. Please, please work! 

Casting a bracing bolt of magic at her own throat, she flinched and coughed a few times before giving it a go. "Ziggy?"

The house elf popped into the room with a surprised look on his face. His squeaky voice almost hurt her overly sensitive ears. "Misses Hermione be speaking?"

"Yes, please, there's no time to explain. I need you to apparate us to the Dark Lord's quarters." As the elf's eyes widened and flew in her wand, she shook her head. Had he explained horcruxes to the house elves? Surely not. "Look, he... he's hurt, like he was before. You brought the special potions?" She wiggled an empty vial from the dose she'd already given Tom. 

Understanding dawned in Ziggy's expression. Without another word, he reached out to touch both Hermione and Voldemort. They disapparated, and she regained her balance as Ziggy elevated his master's master into bed. "Does Misses Hermione be needing anything else to be helping sir?" He wrung his hands nervously as he avoided looking toward Tom's unconscious form. 

She pursed her lips. "Is the Dark Lord expecting any visitors today? Any planned meetings?"

"Oh! Yes, yes!" Ziggy squirmed and fretted as he spoke. "Master Lucius be having a room prepared for Master Greyback's return." Greyback clearly wasn't a house favorite, if the sneer of his name were anything to go by. "Master Lucius be telling Ipsy to prepare werewolf foods, because Master Greyback brings guests."

Crap. "Okay..." Hermione considered her options. Could she ask for help? Would Lucius be able to handle Greyback himself? Or would he take advantage of Tom being incapacitated? It'd be stupid to trust any of the Death Eaters, really. With a sigh, she turned to Plan B. "Ziggy, I need you to do me a favor. Tell Lucius his Lord will speak with Greyback tomorrow."

The elf squinted at her. "Misses Hermione be ordering things above her station."

"No, look, I mean... ugh!" Tugging at her hair, she glared at him. "The Dark Lord needs to rest. You know that! Put them off, please? You can tell him it was my idea, I promise! If he gets angry, he'll just get angry with me."

Ziggy eyes darted between her and Tom, evaluating the truth of her words. Apparently satisfied with whatever he saw, he gave her a curt nod. "Ziggy be telling Master Lucius his Lord is being unavailable tonight only." He emphasized the temporary nature of his cooperation. "I be bringing supper at sunset." With that, he left in a blink. 

Sighing, Hermione poked at the wards and door. Tom's personal spellwork tightly locked the room from intrusion, a definite blessing considering her limited magical abilities at the moment. She perused one of his personal shelves, choosing a book on the magical theory backing Protean charms and their versatility in use. Light reading, really. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Hermione let her fingers card through Tom's hair as she began to read.

* * *

Ziggy hadn't spoken to Hermione when he'd arrived with dinner. The quail and au gratin potatoes seemed a bit much, but she assumed he'd wanted to please Tom more than anything. Most of her meals had been far simpler fare. The second portion remained under a stasis charm to keep warm. 

Returning to her perch on the bed, Hermione considered the sleeping wizard on the bed. She'd been watching for any noticeable changes; after all, last time this had happened, she'd woke to find him de-aged and strangely humanized by the return of his soul piece. He almost seemed a tad younger, but she could just be looking too hard for something that wasn't really there. 

Like watching water boil. Pointless. 

Never one to sit idly by, she'd thumbed through several books as she watched over her charge. An essay on classical healing magic had suck in her mind, an idea forming as the information circled 'round and 'round. What if she used the Carpathian technique? Their ancient healers had used their innate, raw magic and a meditative state similar to that of parselmagic to enter an injured body and heal it from the inside out. 

Sure, they'd often trained for decades to master the technique, but she really didn't need to master anything. She could just try to give Tom enough energy to wake up, right? Hermione admitted to herself that she worried about him. The pain of his soul regaining a piece of itself probably sent his core into shock, and that meant he would be drained. Last time he'd slept through the night, but he'd summoned her help rather late that night in the first place. He'd get up on his own, whenever he was ready. It'd been several hours, after all. If she waited patiently, he'd recharge and regain consciousness. Eventually. 

As she sat there mulling over her options, a sudden fact occurred to her. No way? 

" _Accio_ teacup?" Her cup from supper floated across the room to her awaiting hand. She stared at it, mind racing. She had magic back! All of her magic! Excitement had her rushing off to the bathroom, meeting her reflection with wild eyes and wilder hair. 

" _Colloportus_ ," she cast at the door, giddy when she heard the lock click into place. 

" _Alohomora_." She tugged the door open happily. Hermione almost shrieked when she came face to face with Tom's wand. No, not Tom anymore. He had to be Voldemort in her head, unless she wanted to slip up and call him by the wrong name. Ever prudent, she tossed her wand down at his feet and instinctively slipped into parseltongue. **::I'm sorry. I didn't know when you'd wake or I would've stayed by the bed.::**

His eyes narrowed on her. "Enough of that, pet. You figured out a way to unlock your speaking talents again? I shouldn't be surprised." His wand lowered as he summoned her own from the floor. She forced herself to stand still as he stepped into her personal space. "How long have I been out?"

"About five or six hours?" As he swore under his breath, she hurried to explain. "I had Ziggy tell Lucius to put off Greyback until tomorrow, and no one saw him bring us here. Your secret's safe still."

Voldemort cricked his neck, then nudged her back into the bathroom before shutting the door. "That's... convenient. Thank you." She almost sputtered in response. He thanked her? 

He tucked their wands on a shelf near the tub, a wave of his hand starting the taps wandlessly. Her mouth went dry as his magic flared out and licked across her skin. His own skin seemed to glow with it, like he'd been dipped in gold dust. Caught staring, she flushed with embarrassment. "Um, you're welcome." 

He stalked toward her slowly, making her thunk into the door as she backed away. Cornered, she shivered at the close proximity of his loose magic as his hands braced against the door on either side of her body. "Are you hungry, pet?"

His husky words made her moan as he spoke against her neck. "I... there's dinner in the bedroom under a stasis-"

"There's dinner right here," he interrupted as his lips brushed her neck. The energy snapped between them, crackling like static electricity. The sharp sting melted into intense pleasure as he swept his tongue along the same spot. 

Hermione shouldn't have been surprised when their clothing vanished. Really, the man's power gladly whipped away the barriers between them. Eager mouths met as hands roamed bare skin. She felt Voldemort's hands lifting her, and her legs wrapped around his hips without a pause in their heated kisses. **::Yesss!::** She threw back her head with a loud hiss as he thrust up into her, magic blasting into her body at the same moment. 

She could do nothing but pant and groan as his magic drove into her, shoving its way into her magical core and drawing out her own magic in return. Overwhelmed, she screamed as an orgasm tore through her.

 **::Fuck, you're so perfect!::** Voldemort rode out her spasms and kept going, his mouth latching onto her collar and traveling delicious paths along her neck and jaw. **::So compatible... so open...::**

Hermione felt another wave of his magic pushed into her core and gasp. He couldn't be serious! Thoughts escaped her as she cried out, her entire body tensing as he forced her over the edge again. 

Biting on her jugular, he growled against her skin as his cock continued to pound into her. He drew back and grabbed a fistful of her hair, forcing her to look him in the eye. _::Again, pet. Come for me again.::_

Thrown by the telepathic message, she felt her Mark tingle and tighten slightly on her throat. His magic squeezed her own, meshing them until she couldn't tell where one started and the other began. Breathless, she sobbed as ever nerve ending fired at his touch. His groan of release came seconds later, his cock pulsing inside of her as her Mark relaxed. 

Pinned between Voldemort and the door, Hermione decided she never needed to move again. Nope. She'd just stay put. Not that she trusted her muscles to obey anything right now. Everything thrummed and buzzed. Every. Single. Thing. Even her magical core felt oddly overwhelmed and overcharged. 

A cacophony of noise and pressure dragging across the surface of her mind made her flinch. Hermione's eyes flew open to meet his glowing red orbs, confusion echoing in both their minds. The connection came naturally as they reached out their conjoined magic to touch something important, something strong.

Was that the wards?


	22. Chapter 22

Rage filled him as the wards twisted and creaked around the entry of an unfamiliar portkey. Tracing the intrusion with his mind, Voldemort ignore the ease with which he'd accessed the Malfoy leylines and instead focused on determined the source of all the noise. 

No. He wouldn't dare... 

His connection with Hermione remained surprisingly steady as he set her down and conjured clothing over their forms. They moved in tandem, grabbing their wands before Voldemort apparated them to the other side of the Manor. 

The moment they landed, he felt Nagini nearby and almost panicked. What was she doing? After a moment, he realized the panic wasn't just his own; Hermione's mind whispered through his as they cautiously approached the source of the alarms. _::Snape's potion room? He wouldn't come back here-::_

_::-unless there was something important enough to risk death and dismemberment? No, he's more clever than that.::_

_::You think he's after a potion? Or a poison? Or...::_ Hermione stilled, thoughts circling around the same realization he'd had. 

Voldemort readied himself to throw open the door. _::Or my last horcrux.::_

Wands up, they blasted the door into pieces just in time to watch the hazy flash of a portkey, Nagini's fangs sunk deep into Severus's arm as they whisked away. Heedless of the potential danger, Hermione rushed into the room and dropped to her knees next to a trail of crimson. She swiped a finger through it and sniffed, then cringed and bared her teeth. **::He hurt her!::**

His wand swept the room for hexes as Voldemort answered. "Of course he did. Come here, he's boobytrapped this space within an inch of its life." She returned to his side as beckoned, footsteps down the hall heralding the approach of his Death Eaters. He'd have to send them after the traitor and...

* * *

_...the greasy git did it! But bloody hell! The snake was chomped down on his arm good and tight. Her jaw wouldn't loosen, even after the sword severed her head from her body. "Was that it? Was that the last one?"_

_"No, you fool!" Snape snarled and tapped several spells against Nagini's head. It finally slipped and felt to the floor in a violent splat of blood and venom. Gross. "The old man never told you?"_

_"Told me what? Dumbledore never told me anything without a riddle, you know that!"_

_"Potter." Why did Snape look green around the gills? He'd said he was immune to Nagini's venom, right? The man ran a hand roughly over his face before answering. "The Dark Lord made a mistake on the night he killed your parents and tried to kill you, one I'm relatively certain he's unaware of. How else could he mark an infant as his equal?"_

_He shook his head in denial. "No. Oh, fucking hell no! You can't mean...?"_

_"Yes, Potter. You're the final horcrux."_

* * *

The vision came and went quickly, leaving Voldemort wheezing for breath from the surge of pain. Was he lying on the floor? Energy crackled around him in a dome of light, opaque and familiar.

**::Are you okay? Please, you have to get up. I can't keep them out much longer.::**

Of course. Hermione. He sat up quickly, taking in the belated arrival of his Death Eaters through the bubble of protection she'd erected. From the way they threw hexes and curses at it, he could only assume they were unaware of his status within the barrier. _::Let me lead.::_

Eyes met, and Voldemort ignored her thoughts in order to merge with her shield charm. He sent a ripple of power through it, pushing everyone back as he rose to his feet. The dome flickered and turned clear, giving the men enough time to see their Lord and pause in their assault before it dropped. No need to end up on the wrong end of their hasty hexes. 

"Enough!" His order shot out through their Marks, a warning they'd heed if they wished to keep breathing. 

Silence filled the room. 

He took into the faces of those gathered, too preoccupied to truly enjoy the fearful looks and downcast eyes. Voldemort pushed aside the strangeness of recovering from Nagini's death so quickly, allowing his fury to burn across all Dark Marks. "Return to your stations. Now!"

As they scurried to obey, he glanced down at Hermione's pale form. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, sweat beading across her skin. Had they hurt her? He kneeled and tried to look her over. _::Hermione?::_

When she didn't respond, he followed her presence within his mind and was floored by what he found. She held a mental shield between his soul and his magical core, mitigating the effects of Nagini's destruction by absorbing them mid-formation. _::Why?::_

_::They killed Nagini. I saw it.::_ Hermione's hand brushed his chest over his heart. _::I knew what to do this time, I felt the impact on your soul.::_

Shrugging off her sentimental rubbish, he helped the witch to her feet. _::We need to rest. I'm sure Severus will convince the Order to destroy my final horcrux sooner rather than later.::_

**::Harry? No!::** She hissed out loud, stumbling into his side. 

Voldemort replied with a soothing rumble across her nerves. _::Shh, calm down pet.::_ He guided her down the halls, pleased to see no one as they trudged to his quarters. He'd been afraid he was losing his touch. 

The minute his door closed and the wards shimmered into place, Hermione's arms circled his neck and drew him in. He let himself embrace her back, burying his nose in her curls and inhaling her scent deeply. Merlin, what was she doing to him?

Magic pulsed between them, ebbing and flowing as they synchronized their breathing. He quivered at the feeling of her shield loosening, the trickle of pain and power burning through his entire body. This time, however, her preemptive blockage seemed to save him from the worst of the effects. They both shuddered as the shield dissolved completely.

Hermione nuzzled his neck, dampening his skin with her tears. The witch had bonded with Nagini far more than he'd realized; he could feel her anguish over the loss far more acutely than his own. His fingers rubbed gentle circles up and down her back, soothing her as best he could.

The pull of a vision drew him, the room fading from his awareness.

* * *

_"Don't talk about my father like that!"_

_"You're a greater fool than he ever was, Potter. Now kindly shut up." Snape sneered at him before turning back to the cranky house elf. "Mistress Narcissa requires your assistance, Kreacher. Surely you'd prefer to serve a proper Black?"_

_"Lady Cissy be needing Kreacher again?" The creature's bones crackled and popped as he bowed to Snape, lips curling into a facsimile of a smile as he glanced at Harry. "Kreacher be gladly serving Black blood." His crack of apparation made everyone jump._

_"Damn it! What if he tells them everything?"_

_Snape looked down his nose at Harry. "The Malfoys no longer wish to live under the Dark Lord's heel. Believe me when I say that Narcissa will ensure our success."_

_"Will she help Hermione escape, too?" Harry searched those beady black eyes, hopeful._

_The potions master stilled, his mask of indifference flickering briefly. "I would focus on preparing yourself, Potter. Destroying the thing inside of you will likely take you down immediately, if you don't work on those shields I taught you."_

_A fistful of Snape's robes allowed Harry to keep him from escaping with that non-answer. "You said Hermione's alive. You said she's okay. We have to save her!"_

_Flinging the hand away, the bastard turned and left without another word. Harry clenched his fists at his sides, resisting the urge to reach for his wand and hex Snape while his back was turned. The walls themselves vibrated as he struggled to reel himself in._

_A vase shattered on the floor._

* * *

Voldemort stiffened, his awareness returning as the quick prickle of his personal wards announced an incursion. It was a blink, something he might've ignored if not for Potter's unconscious sharing. Clearly, the Black family's house elf was a disgustingly loyal little thing. 

"What's happening?" Hermione glanced toward the door, unknowingly tracking the same ping he'd felt. 

Closing his eyes in resignation, he released her and stepped back. "I believe the Malfoys have decided it's time to leave."

"They're betraying you." Her words were a statement, not a question. It almost sounded like she cared. She flinched as the wards jolted with apparation, three people ripping their way out of the Manor. 

Of course they betrayed him. Voldemort recognized fate's twisted sense of humor in the way things were playing out. All in all, he saw all of the signs pointing to one inescapable truth: 

Death would find him soon.


	23. Chapter 23

A cold numbness settled over Hermione as she stood in Voldemort's stiff embrace, the weight of his emotions pressing down on her like gravity. Neither spoke as the wards slowly knitted back together over the tear the Malfoys created. 

Oh, Harry. 

He'd have to die. It didn't matter how her felt about losing Harry or the man in her arms. The Order of the Phoenix was created to fight and destroy the Dark Lord. If killing Harry would clear the path to finally defeating Voldemort... 

...who was she kidding? Harry would probably lie down and die willingly, a martyr for the Greater Good. His hero complex would compel him to do absolutely anything to save the wizarding world. Voldemort's destruction outweighed all other concerns. 

"It's Tom." The arms around her tensed briefly before loosening, drawing back far enough for their eyes to meet. 

Hermione blinked at him for a moment before understanding hit. "Oh... Tom." She buried her face against her neck again, trying hard to quell the urge to cry. She'd never felt more confused or conflicted in her life. 

Tom sighed, his emotions storming under the calm mask he wore. She could feel them, his wave of anguish crashing into her own. She let herself drown in their connection and grief, tears soaking his shirt as she sobbed herself dry.

As her shuddering form calmed, he gently guided her to the bed to sit. He untangled their limbs, a hand cupping her damp cheek as he touched their lips together. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

_::...I'm sorry Harry has to die... I'm sorry I have to die... I'm sorry I hurt you... I'm sorry you'll be hurt by this... I'm sorry I can't change any of it...::_

His thoughts rushed through her mind, her teeth clenching together at the finality of it all. "Don't." Her hand rested against her chest, just over his heart. Its beat soothed her. "Don't apologize." 

_::...don't make this harder... don't confuse me further, I can't feel this way... don't do this, don't leave me...::_

Her heart stuttered in her throat as the vortex of thoughts flickered between them. A small voice in the back of her mind wondered at the impossibility of it all. Why did they feel each other so deeply? She'd read almost every book on magical theory found in the Hogwarts library, but nothing explained the way Tom's regret hummed through her as well. It hurt. 

His fingers traced her Mark as he answered her unasked question. "I bound you to me with this." Magic tingled at his words, as if the Mark responded to his voice. "I thought..." _::I wanted to keep you for myself.::_ "...I wanted to make you bend to my will. I put more of myself into your Mark than I ever allowed into the Dark Mark on my Death Eaters."

His words that night echoed through her mind. 

_...you will stand by my side..._  
...you will obey...  
...you will come when I call...  
...your mind will open to me... 

"You created... this?" She gestured between them, bewildered but already accepting that he had to be right. After all, it made as much sense as anything else would. "Did you know?"

"That it would expose me to you as well? Obviously not," he scoffed at his own foolishness. 

Hermione frowned as the current of mental images and sensations from Tom seemed to stutter and twist. He drew his wand, pointing it at her forehead. "What are you doing?"

"Can you trust me, Hermione?" 

They were both surprised by her immediate nod of agreement. She did trust him, though, didn't she? Hermione closed her eyes, content that he would've killed her before if that were his goal. His magic flowed over her wordlessly, the power burning along her Mark to draw a hiss from her lips. What was he doing?

* * *

Everything was black. Shit. Did she die? No, Tom wouldn't have killed her. Hermione blinked against the overwhelming darkness, mentally scanning her body from head to toe. Okay, so not dead. She wiggled her toes and fingers. How the hell did her fingernails ache? Seriously?!

"You're awake." A soft chuckle from her right, and the room glowed as candle relit themselves under Tom's gaze. Oh, she was on the bed. That made sense. His hand brushed her hair back from her face. "How do you feel?"

She started to respond, but the effort made her cough and cringe from the pain. Her fingers laced with his, anchoring her. She cleared her throat and tried again in a whisper. "I feel like shit."

"Drink this," he murmured. She swallowed the contents of the bottle he pressed to her lips, relief washing through her tender muscles immediately. His hand hovered over her as he hissed of basking in the summer sun, the warmth of his spell rejuvenating her further. "I'm sorry. I put you under to lift your Mark, to free you. I failed, though." 

"Oh," she frowned as her free hand reached up to touch her neck. The skin felt tender and bruised. "It's okay, really. I kind of assumed it'd be permanent, you know." 

"Well, I **am** the Dark Lord." Tom leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes in frustration. "Apparently even I can't undo my own work. But I did alter it." 

Hermione's eyes widened as he pulled his collar aside. She reached up and ran a finger across the pale silvery scales of his own Mark in awe. A sudden thought occurred to her. "Is this why I don't feel you anymore? How does that work? I would think it'd tie us together further or something, not-"

"Perhaps you could allow me a word in edgewise?" Chagrinned, she waved for him to go ahead. "I couldn't remove the Mark, but I could balance it out. It's no longer a collar and leash, so much as a link in a chain between us." His palm pressed to his own throat, and the warmth of that palm echoed on her own skin; she flushed as his thoughts mingled in her mind. 

"So, it's got an off switch now?" Hermione considered the news from several directions, the implications both amusing and terrifying. "Can I still use it to apparate to you, or visa versa? And what about commands? Can you still make me obey?" 

Without waiting for an answer, she climbed out of the bed and darted into the bathroom. She had to test this! Her eyes skittered to a stop as she stood by the mirror. The black band of scaly skin had turned to a soft golden strip that seemed to shimmer in the low light of the room. Amazing, and beautiful. 

Shaking away the distraction, Hermione touched her Mark and focused on Tom. His grunt of surprise made her giggle as she appeared on top of him. He grabbed her and rolled, his hard body pressing her into the mattress. "Watch it, pet."

"Sorry," she snickered unrepentantly. 

His tongue slid across the sensitive golden skin, and the magic between them reacted in a buzz of intoxication through her body. She grinded her body up against him in retaliation, eliciting a groan before his mouth swooped down to capture her own. 

Their panting breaths mingled as they hastily removed each other's clothing. Hermione purposefully stroked fingers along Tom's Mark before sliding them into his hair. The ripple of magic ran through them both again, stoking their lust higher. She gasped and threw back her head against the pillows as fingers entered her, teeth grazing her shoulder to add a counterpoint to the pleasure. 

Not to be outdone, she reached between them to grip his cock, thumb rubbing around and over the head quickly. Tom's shape inhale told her how he felt about it, clearly. Struggling to focus through his delicious onslaught, she hissed out something about how it'd felt to have him inside of her. Completely open, completely connected. Mind, body, and soul. 

The magic between them flashed into visibility, gold and silver ribbons of energy weaving around and through them both. She recognized his presence within her and embraced it, and they moved in tandem. Tom entered her as she opened herself, and Hermione wrapped her legs to anchor him close. 

A sense of calm awareness washed over them, and their passion slowed to a gentle burn. Groping hands shifted to soft caresses, their battling tongues turning to tender kisses. The hum of magic encircled them, creating a bubble of light and joy and life. 

And maybe, just maybe, they felt love.


	24. Chapter 24

Guilt was a decidedly unpleasant sensation. Tom swallowed it down as he locked and warded the door to his quarters. There. Perfect. Thanks to a bit of clever spellwork during their mutual afterglow, Hermione slept in his bed, wrapped in his sheets with her hair curled across his pillows. 

He tightened his jaw against the urge to return to her side and pretend fate weren't a callous bitch. Instead, he resolutely marched down the halls toward the ballroom. He sent a signal out through the Dark Marks, calling his Inner Circle to meet him for instruction. 

As he reached the room, a vision assaulted him.

_...excitement coursed through his veins, even as Ron told him to cut it out. If he didn't practice occlumency, the evil bastard would know they were coming. It'd ruin the element of surprise._

_Well, let him see. They'd done it. Snape's plan would work, of course. They'd destroyed his immortality piece by piece, and now Voldemort would pay for everything. Every person he tortured, every innocent who died at his orders. Every moment he'd held Hermione captive._

_Merlin, what if Hermione were dead? What if Voldemort decided to take her out the minute they breached the wards? No, they'd just have to beat him to it. They had to._

_Blood pumping, he waited for the others to gather..._

"My lord?" 

Pushing away the ill-fitted excitement radiating from Harry Potter, Tom turned to see the Lestrange brothers. First to arrive, as usual. "We will be under attack shortly. Rabastan, Rodolphus, I need you to contact the vampires. Whoever is willing to honor our previously discussed alliance, get them here now."

As the wizards rushed off to do as he was told, Tom turned to the rest of his Circle. They cowered from him, uncertainty clear in their faces. He had been rather distant lately, thanks to his pet. Letting his power press against them, he spoke clearly into the eerie silence of the room. 

"The Order is coming. The Potter boy has shown me their plan to attack, and soon. Greyback, you will take your brethren and guard the southern end by the woods. Do not maim and infect, we need clean kills and a clear victory. MacNair, you and Nott will take the East and West wings respectively. The newer recruits will be assigned the foyer, as I'm sure it's the least warded section of the manor and most likely target of entry. I don't need to tell you that failure is not an option. We will defeat the Order and drive them back, or you will die."

Head already pounding with the beginnings of a migraine, Tom looked to Bellatrix as the others filed out to fulfill their orders. Twirling her wand mindlessly, she pouted as she scanned the room. "Where's the ickle snakey girl?" Noticing the warning glint in his eye, she balked. "Oh, my lord, I like her! I do! I only worry... have you tucked her away for safekeeping or sent her out to nibble on those fools who oppose us?"

Sweet Circe, why did he keep this crazy witch around? "She's been locked away. Potter wants to retrieve her, so I intend to ensure he fails."

"Of course, my lord. She's yours, after all." Bellatrix bowed her head reverently. 

"Yes, mine."

* * *

Lucius surprised them all. 

A ruckus in the kitchens alerted them to the arrival of guests. The house elves all disapparated on the orders of their true masters, glad to find themselves commanded out of the battlegrounds-to-be. Tom listened intently to the leylines of the Manor, feeling the well-coordinated spread of attackers as they popped onto the property all over. 

The Order had Malfoy Manor surrounded. Good. 

Tom knew Death waited for him. What else could he expect? Once, maybe, he could've stepped back and redeemed his plans for the better. He could've used his charisma and skill to push for reforms in the wizarding world, fix the broken system. But it was too late to go back. He'd fed his Death Eaters fear and violence for far too long, recruiting fighters instead of thinkers in a twisted effort to gain power. He'd built an empire that needed to crumble. 

Knowing he would die at the wand of Harry Potter did little for his mood. Not one to make things easy, he decided to go out on his own terms. With a bang, of course. 

Tom cast a few special wards over the entryways to the ballroom, tweaking them just so. The spidery webs of magic wouldn't keep out everyone, but those unfamiliar with Malfoy Manor would find themselves unable to walk through the doors. It was better than nothing, a way to ensure that he and Potter could face off with minimal interruption. 

Speak of the devil. "Harry Potter, welcome." Tom sarcastically bowed to the boy as he crossed the threshold, the two wizards who accompanied him staying behind with looks of confusion on their faces. The Weasley boy from their shared vision shoved at the invisible barrier, but a witch with bright pink hair tripped in after Harry quickly. An Auror and a Black? He couldn't remember her name, but the metamorphmagus stood out from memories of visions he and Harry had shared.

"Hello, Tom." Harry bit off his name like an insult. If only he knew. 

A hex from the left hit Tom's quick reflector spell, bouncing back to knock Lucius on his ass. The conniving coward. "Now, now. Lucius, I do believe you know better than that. _Crucio._ " He enjoyed the pained whimper he pulled from the proud man. After all, he'd betrayed his lord. Regardless of whether or not Tom wanted to be the Dark Lord, he was what he was. Betrayal demanded payback. 

The crash of a chandelier drew his attention back to Harry. Several vampires had entered the fray, bypassing his wards thanks to the meeting they'd attended previously. Potter had evidently severed the chains holding the chandelier, allowing it to crash down on his assailants. Clever. He hadn't considered the necessity of telling them not to touch the boy. Who knew if he'd survive an all-out vampire assault. 

Thankfully, few of the creatures seemed to have wandered so far into the Manor; hopefully the Lestrange brothers had convinced the rest to assist in keeping out as many Order members as possible. Tom needed time for everything to fall into place. He needed time to be defeated, preferably without the fall of the Manor itself. Hermione's safety had to withstand his death. She had to live on. For both of them.

Tom watched as the vampire Sanguini drew the pink-haired witch away from Potter's side, dodging her hexes and ducking in close to bite and claw wherever he could reach. Tonks? Yes, Nymphadora Tonks moved well, all things considered. Perhaps she'd truly earned her spot amongst the Aurors, or maybe she was just naturally lucky. Her rapid casting clipped Sanguini, slicing along the vampire's ribs and slowing his attacks. Who would've guessed a clumsy woman who tripped over her own feet could hold her own against a vampire? She rolled and kept going, her haphazard movements their own defense. 

A stunning spell flew past Tom's head, making him raise his brow. Wrapping Lucius in an _Incarcerus_ , he faced off with the Boy Who Lived. They shared no words, no epic speech. The time for that kind of showmanship had long since passed. Instead, curses and counter curses flew from them both almost too quickly to track. 

The boy was good, but Tom was better. Harry dodged and rolled to escape spells cast his direction, while Tom simply deflected or blocked those sent toward where he stood still. He could feel Harry's growing frustration, along with a hint of something else. Impatience? No, suddenly it became determination. 

Billowing black robes at the corner of Tom's sight signaled Snape's arrival. Where had he been? What was Severus up to? Blocking another slashing hex, Tom tracked his spy's progress through the room. A glint of glass flew through the air, caught expertly by Potter's quick Seeker reflexes before Tom could consider the merits of blasting it to pieces. 

This was it, wasn't it? Their secret plan to destroy his last horcrux, to finally make him mortal. Of course it involved a potion. Any and every diabolical plan involving Severus Snape was bound to include a potion. Idly he wondered if it were a compulsion, the urge of a potions master to apply his talents in all things. 

The room seemed to still and grow quiet. Duels continued around its edges, but the eye of the storm centered around Harry and Tom, wands pausing in unison. Harry looked directly into the Dark Lord's eyes as he popped the cork and tipped back the vial, swallowing the contents with a slight grimace. Tom tasted a familiar bite of honeyed venom, reflected from Harry's mind, just as the boy collapsed. 

_::Hermione?::_

Pain tore through Tom's entire body as a now-familiar burning light flashed from within his soul. His rebuilt and, now, apparently mortal soul. He started to back away, but his steps faltered as his magical core reacted to the sudden change. Blackness crept across the edges of his vision, just as Snape kneeled next to Harry's prone body and shoved something into the boy's mouth. Probably a bezoar. 

Ah, yes. This really was the end. Finally. 

Tom opened his arms, ready to embrace Death once and for all.


	25. Chapter 25

_::Hermione?::_

Struggling through a heavy haze of sleep, Hermione groaned and thrashed against the magic holding her unconscious. She sat up, gasping as her eyes flew around the room. Damn it, Tom! Shoving the blankets away, she raced to pull on her robes and find her wand. Where was it? It was right on the nightstand earlier... 

...he wouldn't dare. 

Taking a deep breath, Hermione calmed herself before looking around the room. She'd clearly been spelled asleep, so it stood to reason that Tom had left her behind. The door was locked, the wards unyielding against her palm. Bloody hell, the man was wonderfully dense! As if he could keep her locked away like some damsel in a tower. 

Smirking, she concentrated on him, touched her Mark, and popped out of the room.

* * *

**::Tom?::** Instinct drove her to speak parseltongue at the sight of so many strangers surrounding them. A battle had clearly been waging on, but Harry laid next to Snape across the floor. Hermione stepped into Tom's outstretched arms, catching him just before he could collapse. 

**::Hermione? Why...?::**

Startled by his weak reply, she realized what must've happened. They'd done it. They'd destroyed the horcrux inside of Harry, and now Tom was in serious danger. Unable to hold his weight, she carefully guided him to the floor. If she'd been here, she could've stopped this. She could've prevented the damage to his core. She could've helped. **::You called to me. Why didn't you let me stay by your side?::**

He shook his head. **::I didn't... you can't be here. You have to leave. I didn't want you to see this...::**

_::...to watch me die.::_

Hermione flinched at his unspoken words. With his fading strength, the walls between their link crumbled and flooded her with everything he felt. His pain, his worry for her, his resignation. Tears welled in her eyes as she felt love flow between them unhindered. He was saying goodbye the only way he knew how. 

"Please, don't." 

Her broken words filled the silence of the ballroom. Dueling witches and wizards, having stopped at the sudden crack of inexplicable apparation, now watched in bewilderment as Hermione, member of the Golden Trio and the Order of the Phoenix, cried for Voldemort. 

She ignored them all and leaned over him, gently brushing hair back from his face. Her vision blurred as she pressed a kiss to his forehead, his thoughts forming a final request, a final order he wished she would obey. "I can't..."

_::You have to... for Potter. If he kills me, he'll break his soul on the hate and anger. You'll lose your friend.::_

"I'll lose you, too."

_::Yes. This way, you can at least save him.::_

Hermione winced. Tom was right, but she couldn't do it. He couldn't ask her to do it, to kill him. He couldn't make her choose that path. Not even for peace. 

As if sensing her stubbornness, he pressed his wand into her limp fingers and squeezed them around it until accepted its heavy burden. His words were low and only for her ears. "I'm ready to die, Hermione. I fought fate so hard, for so long... and it was stupid. So bloody stupid. There's nothing about me worth saving, other than the way I feel about you. Show me mercy, pet. Help me die with dignity." 

Swallowing hard, she nodded sharply and rose. His wand rested comfortably in her hand, resonating with her in a way her own wand never had. Releasing her magic to embrace Tom one last time, Hermione leveled the wand's tip at his heart. 

She hissed words of a full and swollen belly on a warm spring day, the gentle sway of tall grasses around a sunlit rock, the relief of itchy skin shed against rough stone. A lavender haze of peace washed over Tom before she spoke again. 

" _Avada Kedavra._ "

* * *

A month had come and gone since the Final Battle. 

The Daily Prophet gushed over the defeat of You Know Who and the survival of the Golden Trio. Apparently, a few Knockturn Alley bookies had placed some pretty high odds on all three making it through the fight with the Dark Lord. After all, he'd at least be able to kill off the girl he'd kidnapped, right?

And yet, said girl had been his downfall. Witnesses spoke of a strange one-sided conversation of whispers and tears before a flash of green ended Voldemort's reign. No one could give exact details. The Aurors had ensured that all witnesses were debriefed, then magically bound to keep the truth to themselves. 

Everyone with a Dark Mark had collapsed at the moment Voldemort had died. It had made rounding up his lackies incredibly easy, allowing peace to come much more quickly than anyone could've hoped. The vampires and werewolves had mostly scattered after his fall, clearing deciding to cut their losses. 

In Grimmauld's quiet walls, a witch with sharp teeth and a sharper intellect remained locked away in her room.

* * *

She didn't want it. 

Hermione glared at the potion on her tray, unreasonably angry with them all. After becoming the Minister of Magic, Kingsley had immediately used whatever resources at his disposal to figure out how she'd turned herself into a naga-hybrid. Each night, a vial sat with her dinner outside of the warded bedroom door. 

A cure. 

They thought she wanted to go back to being a human. No, really, they wanted her to go back to being Hermione, their know-it-all friend and young witch with a soft spot for troublemakers. But she couldn't go back, not now. Not ever. 

Hermione ran a hand over her stomach, frowning. She'd been restless since that night, since... well, she prefered not to think about it too hard. The sting of tears worried her. At this rate, she'd be lucky not to die of dehydration. And yet, it wasn't getting any easier to face Tom's death. 

Oh, Merlin. Why had she let herself think about that?

Sniffling, she struggling to compose herself. An odd scent made her pause. She leaned over her tray and sniffed carefully. Nope, not there. Confused, she tried to track where exactly the strange smell had come from. It wasn't her bedding. Not the stack of books Harry had sent up to try and tempt her into reading. Not her clothes. 

Wait. 

Hermione scented her own wrist and found the source of the odd note. It reminded her of something... 

A knock on the door startled her. Fleur's soft voice spoke through the wards. "Hermione? Ve hoped you vould join us. Eet ez Ronald's birthday today."

With a huff, Hermione opened the door to tell the pregnant woman to leave her alone. It seemed like they all believed she'd be more apt to listen to the part-Veela, as if their mutual creature aspects would automatically get along. Ridiculous! 

"Fleur, I'm sorry, but-" Her words cut off as Fleur's scent washed over her. She connected the dots and snorted. Bloody brilliant! Fan-fucking-tastic! As the blood left her face and she started to faint, she could hear Fleur call down the hall for help.

* * *

Hermione snuck a message out with an owl. Those staying at Grimmauld had required the rental of several owls to keep up with their correspondence, making her own letter an unnoticed delivery. 

The response in her hands made her smile for the first time since... Tom. Sighing, she checked the door before using her wand to shrink and pack the things she wanted to keep the most. Her beaded purse came in handy, the small bag easily tucked aside and ready for her escape. 

No one had pressed her when she'd claimed fatigue as an excuse for fainting the day before. She'd managed to wave off their concerns, convincing Molly not to cast a diagnostic charm by mentioning that she felt hungry. Mothering instincts activated, Mrs. Weasley had marched Hermione straight into the kitchen for a cuppa while she fixed something quick to eat. 

Hermione had forced herself to stay for Ron's birthday cake and presents. He'd hugged her hard, embarrassingly grateful to see her outside of the bedroom she'd taken refuge in. She appreciated his exuberance, though; it prevented others from pestering her about taking the "cure" or asking about her plans now that everything was said and done. 

They ate cake, and she escaped to her room to contact the one person she thought might help. 

A tap on the glass behind her made Hermione smile. An owl fluttered its wings against the glass, swooping in the minute she opened the window. A thin silver ribbon was tied to its talons. The signal. 

Taking the borrowed broom she'd tucked away, Hermione carefully mounted the thing and flew out of her window into the night. Landing outside of Grimmauld's wards, she greeted Annabelle Camarilla with a tearful smile. 

"Let's go, sweetie. This cold is no good for someone in your condition." With a soft crack in the night, the vampire apparated Hermione to her new home.

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm sorry I left without any warning, but we both know it was the only way. I couldn't convince any of you that I wanted to remain as I am, as this new me I've become. On top of everything else, I couldn't handle the constant pressure to go back to the girl I used to be. I've changed too much for that. We all have._

_I'm okay. Believe it or not, I made a few friends while staying ~~with Tom~~ at Malfoy Manor. Strange bedfellows and all that. I won't tell you who's helping me or where I am, but know that I'm okay and safe. _

_I'll be back, I promise. In ~~eight months~~ a year or so, I think. Don't be surprised if I return with a few long stories to share. I'll even bring company with me, though I can only hope you'll like them. _

_I love you all. Don't bother trying to trace this owl. You know me better than that._

_Hermione_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, the big bad ending. This story didn't turn out exactly as I'd planned. For one thing, Hermione was supposed to die as well. For another, she never had a pregnancy in the cards. Thank my commenters for creating new directions along the way. I hope you enjoyed the tale.
> 
> UPDATE 12/09/2015: I'm going to start part two during winter break in a couple weeks. Thank you to all who commented on what they thought should happen next!


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